A  Princess  of  TffuLE 


BV 


WILLIAM    BLACK, 


AUTHOR    OF 


'X  DAUGHTER  OF  HETH,"  "  MADCAP  VIOLET,"    •  STRANG* 
ADVENTURES  OF  A  PHAETON,"  Etc. 


NEW  YORK: 

JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY, 

14  &  16  Vesey  Street. 


A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 


By    WILLIAM     BLACK. 


CHAPTER    I. 

''LOCHABER   NO    MORE," 

On  a  small  headland  of  the  distant  island  of  Lewis,  an  old 
man  stood  looking  out  on  a  desolate  waste  of  rain-beaten  sea. 
It  was  a  wild  and  wet  day.  From  out  of  the  lowering  South- 
west fierce  gusts  of  wind  were  driving  up  volumes  and  flying 
rags  of  clouds,  and  sweeping  onward  at  the  same  time  the 
gathering  waves  that  fell  hissing  and  thundering  on  the 
shore.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  sea  and  the  air  and 
the  sky  seemed  to  be  one  indistinguishable  mass  of  whirling 
and  hurrying  vapor,  as  if  beyond  this  point  there  were  no 
more  land,  but  only  wind  and  water,  and  the  confused  and 
awful  voice  of  their  strife. 

The  short,  thick-set,  powerfully-built  man  who  stood  on 
this  solitary  point  paid  little  attention  to  the  rain  that  ran  off 
the  peak  of  his  sailor's  cap,  or  to  the  gusts  of  wind  that  blew 
about  his  bushy  gray  beard.  He  was  still  following,  with  an 
eye  accustomed  to  pick  out  objects  far  at  sea,  one  speck  of 
purple  that  was  now  fading  into  the  gray  mist  of  the  rain; 
and  the  longer  he  looked  the  less  it  became,  until  the  mingled 
sea  and  sky  showed  only  the  smoke  that  the  great  steamer 
left  in  its  wake.     As  he  stood,  there,  motionless  and  regard- 


2  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE, 

less  of  everything  around  him,  did  he  cling  to  the  fancy  that 
he  could  still  trace  out  the  path  of  the  vanished  ship?  A 
little  while  before  it  had  passed  almost  close  to  him.  He 
had  Vatched  it  Steatrr  ;out  of  Stornoway  Harbor.  As  the 
sound  of'the  enginis'came  nearer  and  the  big  boat  went  by, 
so  that;h^  iC-guld'have  almos-t  called  to  it,  there  Avas  no  sign  of 
eiri'otibii  On'ihe  h3Jrd,g.Q^-'ste}-i3  face,  except,  perhaps,  that  the 
lips  were  held  firm  and  a  sort  of  frown  appeared  over  the  eyes. 
He  saw  a  tiny  white  handkerchief  being  waved  to  him  from 
the  deck  of  the  vessel;  and  he  said,  almost  as  though  he 
were  addressing  some  one  there  : 

"My  good  httle  girl!" 

But  in  the  midst  of  that  roaring  of  the  sea  and  the  wind 
how  could  any  such  message  be  delivered?  And  already  the 
steamer  was  avay  from  the  land,  standing  out  to  the  lonely- 
plain  of  waters,  and  the  sound  of  the  engines  had  ceased, 
and  the  figures  on  the  deck  had  grown  faint  and  visionary. 
But  still  there  was  that  one  speck  of  white  visible;  and  the 
man  knew  that  a  pair  of  eyes  that  had  many  a  time  looked 
into  his  own — as  if  with  a  faith  that  such  intercommunion 
could  never  be  broken — were  now  trying,  through  overflow- 
ing and  blinding  tears,  to  send  him  a  last  look  of  farewell. 

The  gray  mists  of  the  rain  gathered  within  their  folds  the 
big  vessel  and  all  the  beating  hearts  it  contained,  and  the 
fluttering  of  that  little  token  disappeared  with  it.  All  that 
remained  was  the  sea,  whitened  by  the  rushing  of  the  wind 
and  the  thunder  of  waves  on  the  beach.  The  man,  who  had 
been  gazing  so  long  down  into  the  Southeast,  turned  his  face 
landward  and  set  out  to  walk  over  a  tract  of  wet  grass  and 
sand  toward  a  road  that  ran  near  by.  There  was  a  large 
wagonette  of  varnished  oak  and  a  pair  of  small  powerful 
horses  waiting  for  him  there;  and  having  dismissed  the  boy 
who  had  been  in  charge,  he  took  the  reins  and  got  up.  But 
even  yet  the  fascination  of  the  sea  and  of  that  sad  farewell 
was  upon  him,  and  he  turned  once  more,  as  if,  now  that 
sight  could  yield  him  no  further  tidings,  he  would  send  her 
one  more  word  of  good-by.  "My  poor  little  Sheila  !"  That 
was  all  he  said;  and  then  he  turned  to  the  horses  and  sent 
them  on,  with  his  head  down  to  escape  the  rain,  and  a  look 
on  his  face  like  that  of  a  dead  man. 

As  he  drove  through  the  town  of  Stornoway  the  children 
playing  within  the  shelter  of  the  cottage  doors  called  to  each 


A    PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  3 

Other  in  a  whisper  and  said  :  "  That  is  the  King  of  Borva." 
But  the  elderly  people  said  to  each  other,  with  a  shake  of 
the  head,  "It  iss  a  bad  day,  this  day,  for  Mr.  Mackenzie, 
tliat  he  will  be  going  home  to  an  empty  house.  And  it  will 
be  a  ferry  bad  thing  for  the  poor  folk  of  Borva,  and  they 
will  know  a  great  difference,  now  that  Miss  Sheila  iss  gone 
away,  and  there  is  nobody — not  anybody  at  all — left  in  the 
island  to  tek  the  side  of  the  poor  folk." 

He  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  though  he 
was  known  to  many  of  the  people,  as  he  drove  away  from 
the  town  into  the  heart  of  the  lonely  and  desolate  land.  The 
wind  had  so  far  died  down,  and  the  rain  had  considerably 
lessened,  but  the  gloom  of  the  sky  was  deepened  by  the 
drawing  on  of  the  afternoon,  and  lay  heavily  over  the  dreary 
wastes  of  moor  and  hill.  What  a  wild  and  dismal  country 
was  this  which  lay  before  and  all  around  him,  now  that 
the  last  traces  of  human  occupation  were  passed  !  There 
was  not  a  cottage,  not  a  stone  wall,  not  a  fence,  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  lo  :g  undulations  of  moorland,  which  in 
the  distance  rose  into  a  series  of  hills  that  were  black  under 
the  darkened  sky.  Down  from  those  mountains  ages  ago, 
glaciers  had  slowly  crept  to  eat  out  hollows  in  the  plains  below; 
and  now  in  those  hollows  were  lonely  lakes,  with  not  a  tree 
to  break  the  line  of  their  melancholy  shores.  Everywhere 
around  were  the  traces  of  this  glacier  drift — great  gray  boul- 
ders of  gneiss  fixed  fast  into  the  black  peat  moss,  or  set 
amid  the  browns  and  greens  of  the  heather.  The  only  sound 
to  be  heard  in  this  wilderness  of  rock  and  morass  was  the 
rushing  of  various  streams,  rain-swollen  and  turbid,  that 
plunged  down  their  narrow /:hannels  to  the  sea. 

The  rain  now  ceased  altogether,  but  the  mountains  in  the 
far  south  had  grown  still  darker,  and  to  the  fishermen  passing 
by  the  coast  it  must  have  seemed  as  though  the  black  peaks 
were  holdmg  converse  with  the  lowering  clouds,  and  that  the 
silent  moorland  beneath  was  waiting  fur  the  first  roll  of  the 
thunder.  The  man  who  was  driving  along  this  lonely  route 
sometimes  cast  a  glance  down  toward  this  threatening  of  a 
storm,  but  he  paid  little  heed  to  it.  The  reins  lay  loose  on 
the  backs  of  the  horses,  and  at  their  own  pace  they  followed, 
hour  after  hour,  the  rising  and  falling  road  that  led  through 
the  moorland  and  past  the  gloomy  lakes.  He  may  have 
recalled  mechanically  the  names  of  those  stretches  of  water 


4  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

— The  Lake  of  the  SheUing,  the  Lake  of  the  Oars,  the  Lake 
of  the  Fine  Sand,  and  so  forth — to  measure  the  distance  he 
had  traversed;  but  he  seemed  to  pay  little  attention  to  the 
objects  around  him,  and  it  was  with  a  glance  of  something 
like  surprise,  that  he  suddenly  found  himself  overlooking  that 
great  sea-loch  on  the  western  side  of  the  island  in  which  was 
his  home. 

He  drove  down  the  hill  to  the  solitary  little  inn  of  Gara- 
na-hina.  At  the  door,  muffled  up  in  a  warm  woolen  plaid, 
stood  a  young  girl,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  and  diffident  in 
look. 

"Mr.  Mackenzie,"  she  said,  with  that  peculiar  and  pleasant 
intonation  that  marks  the  speech  of  the  Hebridean  who  has 
been  taught  English  in  the  schools,  "  it  was  Miss  Sheila 
wrote  to  me  to  Suainabost,  and  she  said  I  might  come  down 
from  Suainabost  and  see  if  I  can  be  of  any  help  to  you  in  the 
house." 

The  girl  was  crying,  although  the  blue  eyes  looked  bravely 
through  the  tears  as  it"  to  disprove  the  fact. 

"  Ay,  my  good  lass,"  he  said,  putting  his  hand  gently  on 
her  head,  **and  it  wass  Sheila  wrote  to  you?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I  hef  come  down  from  Suainabost." 

"It  is  a  lonely  house  you  will  be  going  to,"  he  said,  ab- 
sently. 

"But  Miss  Sheila  said  I  wass — I  wass  to — "  But  here 
the  young  giil  failed  in  her  effort  to  explain  that  Miss  Sheila 
had  asked  her  to  go  down  to  make  the  house  less  lonely. 
The  elderly  man  in  the  wagonette  seemed  scarcely  to  notice 
that  she  was  crying;  he  bade  her  come  up  beside  him;  and 
when  he  had  got  her  into  the  wagonette  he  left  some  message 
with  the  innkeeper,  who  had  come  to  the  door,  and  drove 
off  again. 

They  drove  along  the  high  land  that  overlooks  a  portion 
of  Loch  Roag,  with  its  wonderful  network  of  islands  and 
straits,  and  then  they  stopped  on  the  lofty  plateau  of  Caller- 
nish,  where  there  was  a  man  waiting  to  take  the  wagonette 
and  horses. 

"And  you  would  be  seeing  Miss  Sheila  away,  sir?"  said 
the  man;  "  and  it  was  Duncan  Macdonald  will  say  that  she 
will  not  come  back  no  more  to  Borva." 

The  old  man  with  the  big  gray  beard  only  frowned  and 
passed  on.     He  and  the  girl  made  their  way  down  the  side 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  5 

of  the  rocky  hill  to  the  shore,  and  here  there  was  an  open 
boat  awaiting  them.  When  they  approached,  a  man  con- 
siderably over  six  feet  in  height,  keen-faced,  gray-eyed, 
straight-limbed  and  sinewy  in  frame,  jumped  into  the  big  and 
rough  boat  and  began  to  get  r^ady  for  their  departure. 
There  was  just  enougii  wii;d  to  catch  the  brown  mainsail, 
and  the  King  of  Borva  took  the  tiller,  his  henchman  sitting 
down  by  the  mast.  And  no  sooner  had  they  left  the  shore 
and  stood  out  towards  one  of  the  channels  of  this  arm  of  the 
sea,  than  the  tall,  spare  keeper  began  to  talk  of  that  which 
made  his  master's  eye  grow  dark.  "  Ah,  well,"  he  said,  in 
the  plaintive  drawling  of  his  race,  "and  it  iss  an  empty 
house  you  will  be  going  to,  Mr.  Mackenzie;  and  it  iss  a  bad 
thing  for  us  all  that  Miss  Sheda  hass  gone  away;  and  it  iss 
many's  ta  time  she  will  hef  been  wiss  me  in  this  very 
boat  — " 

" you,  Duncan  Macdonald!"  cried  Mackenzie, 

in  an  access  of  fury,  "  what  will  you  talk  of  like  that?  It  iss 
every  man,  woman  and  child  on  the  island  will  talk  of 
nothing  but  Sheila!  I  will  drive  my  foot  through  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat  if  you  do  not  hold  your  peace!" 

The  tall  gillie  patiently  waited  until  his  master  had  ex- 
hausted his  passion,  and  then  he  said,  as  if  nothing  had 
occurred:  "And  it  will  not  do  much  good,  Mr.  Mackenzie, 
to  tek  ta  name  o'  God  in  vain;  and  there  will  be  much  more 
of  trinking  in  ta  island,  and  it  will  be  a  great  difference  mir- 
over.  And  she  will  be  so  far  away  that  no  one  will  see  her 
no  more — far  away  beyond  ta  sound  of  Sleat,  and  far  away 
beyond  Oban,  as  I  hef  heard  people  say.  And  what  will  she 
do  in  London,  when  she  has  no  boat  at  all,  and  she  will 
never  go  out  to  ta  fishing  ?  And  I  will  hear  people  say  that  you 
will  walk  a  whole  day  and  never  come  to  ta  sea,  and  what 
will  Miss  Shelia  do  for  that  ?  And  she  will  tame  no  more  o' 
ta  wild  ducks'  young  things,  and  she  will  find  out  no  more  o' 
ta  nests  in  the  rocks,  and  she  will  hef  no  more  horns  when  the 
deer  is  killetl,  and  she  will  go  out  no  more  to  see  ta  cattle 
swim  across  Loch  Roag  when  they  go  to  ta  sheilings.  It  will 
be  all  different,  all  different,  now;  and  she  will  never  see  us 
no  more.  And  it  iss  as  bad  as  if  you  was  a  poor  man,  Mr. 
Mackenzie,  and  had  to  let  your  sons  and  your  daughters  go 
away  to  America,  and  never  come  back  no  more.  And  she 
ta  only  one  in  your  house!     And  it  wasi  the  son  of  Mr.  Mac- 


6  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

intyre,  of  Sutherland,  he  would  have  married  her,  and  come 
to  live  on  ta  island,  and  not  have  Miss  Sheila  go  away  among 
strangers  that  doesnaken  ,her  famil)^  and  will  put  no  store  by 
her,  no  more  than  if  she  was  a  fisherman's  lass.  It  wass  Miss 
Sheila  herself  had  a  sore  heart  tis  morning  when  she  went 
away;  and  she  turned  and  she  looked  at  Borva  as  the  boat 
came  a^vay,  and  I  said,  '  Tis  iss  the  last  time  Miss  Sheila  will 
be  in  her  boat,  and  she  will  not  come  no  more  again  to 
Borva." 

Mr.  Mackenzie  heard  not  one  word  or  syllable  of  all  this. 
The  dead,  passionless  look  had  fallen  over  the  powerfui 
features,  and  the  deep-set  eyes  were  gaz'ng,  not  on  the  actual 
Loch  Roag  before  them,  b.it  on  a  stormy  sea  that  lies  be- 
tween Lewis  and  Skye,  and  on  a  vessel  disappearing  in  the 
midst  of  the  rain.  It  was  by  a  sort  of  instinct  that  he  guided 
this  open  boat  through  the  channels,  which  were  now  getting 
broader  as  they  neared  the  sea,  and  the  tall  and  grave-faced 
keeper  might  have  kept  up  his  garrulous  talk  for  hours  with- 
out attracting  a  look  or  a  word. 

It  was  now  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  wild  and  strange 
indeed  was  the  scene  around  the  solitary  boat  as  it  slowly 
moved  ahng.  Large  islands— so  large  that  any  one  of  them 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  the  mainland— lay  over  the 
dark  waters  of  the  sea,  remote,  untena.ited  and  silent.  There 
were  no  white  cottages  along  these  rocky  shores;  only  a  suc- 
cession of  rugged  cliffs  and  sandy  bays,  but  half  mirrored  in 
the  sombre  water  below.  Down  in  the  South  the  mighty 
shoulders  and  peaks  of  Suainabhal  and  its  sister  mountains 
were  still  darker  than  the  darkening  sky ;  and  when  at  length 
the  boat  had  got  well  out  from  the  network  of  islands  a°nd 
fronted  the  b:oad  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  the  great  plain  of 
the  western  sea  seemed  seemed  already  to  have  drawn  around 
it  the  solemn  mantle  of  the  night. 

"  Will  you  go  to  Boi  vap  st,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  or  will  we  run 
her  mto  your  own  house?"  a.ked  Duncan— Borvapost  being 
the  name  of  the  chief  village  on  the  island. 

"I  will  not  go  on  to  Borvapost,"  said  the  old  man 
peevishly.  "  Will  they  not  have  plenty  to  talk  about  at  Bor-' 
vapost?" 

"  And  it  iss  no  harm  tat  ta  folk  will  speak  of  Miss  Sheila," 
said  the  gillie  with  some  show  of  resentment :  "  it  iss  no  harm 
tey  will  be  sorry  she  is  gone  away— no  harm  at  all,  for  it  was 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  7 

many  things  tey  had  to  thank  Miss  Sheila  for  ;  and  now  it 
will  be  all  ferry  different  — '' 

"I  tell  you,  Duncan  Macdonald,  to  hold  your  peace  !" 
said  the  old  man,  with  a  savage  glare  of  the  deep-set  eyes  ; 
and  then  Duncan  relapsed  into  a  sulky  silence,  and  the  boat 
held  on  iis  way. 

In  the  gathering  twilight  a  long  gray  curve  of  sand  became 
visible,  and  into  the  bay  thus  indicated  Mackenzie  turned 
his  small  craft.  This  indentation  of  the  island  seemed  as 
blank  of  human  occupation  as  the  various  points  and  bays 
they  had  passed,  but  as  they  neared  the  shore  a  house  came 
into  sight,  about  half  way  up  the  slope  rising  from  the  sea  to 
the  pasture  land  above.  There  was  a  small  stone  pier  jut- 
ting out  at  one  portion  of  the  bay,  where  a  mass  of  rooks 
was  embedded  in  the  white  sand  ;  and  here  at  length  the 
boat  was  run  in,  and  Mackenzie  helped  the  young  girl 
ashore. 

The  two  of  them,  leaving  the  gillie  to  moor  the  little  vessel 
that  had  brought  tnem  from  Callernish,  went  silently  toward 
the  shore,  and  up  the  narrow  road  leading  to  the  house.  It 
was  a  square,  two-storied  substantial  building  of  stone,  but 
the  stone  had  been  liberally  oiled  to  uj-p  out  the  wet,  and 
the  blackness  thus  produced  had  not  a  very  cheerful  look. 
Then,  on  this  particular  evening  the  scant  b  ;shes  surrounding 
the  house  hung  limp  and  dark  m  the  rain,  and  amid  the  pre- 
vailing hues  of  purple,  blue-green  and  blue,  the  bit  of  scarlet 
coping  running  around  the  black  house  was  wholly  ineffective 
in  relieving  the  general  impression  of  dreariness  and  deso- 
lation. 

The  King  of  Borva  walked  into  a  large  room,  which  was 
but  partially  lit  by  two  can  il  s  on  thetableand  by  the  blaze 
of  amass  of  peats  in  the  sconj  fire-place,  and  threw  himself 
into  a  big  easy-chair.  Then  he  suddenly  seemed  to  recollect 
his  companion,  who  was  timidly  standing  near  the  door,  with 
her  shawl  still  around  her  head. 

'*  Mairi,"  he  said,  "go  and  ask  them  to  give  you  some  dry 
clothes.  Your  box  it  will  not  be  here  for  half  an  hour  yet." 
Then  he  turned  to  the  fire. 

°'  But  you  yourself,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  you  will  be  ferry  wet — " 

**  Nciver  mind  me,  my  lass;  go  and  get  yourself  dried." 

'•  But  it  wass  Miss  Sheila,"  began  the  girl  diffidently — "  it 
wass  Miss  Sheila  asked  me — she  asked  me  to  look  after  you, 
sir—" 


8  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

With  that  he  rose  abruptly,  and  advanced  to  her  and 
caught  her  by  the  wrist.  He  spoke  quite  quietly  to  her,  but 
the  girl's  eyes,  looking  up  at  the  stern  face,  were  a  trifle 
frightened. 

"  You  are  a  ferry  good  little  girl,  Mairi,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  and  you  will  mind  what  I  say  to  you.  You  will  do  what 
you  like  in  the  house,  you  will  take  Sheila's  place  as  much  as 
you  like,  but  you  will  mind  this — not  to  mention  her  name, 
not  once.  Now  go  away,  Mairi,  and  find  Scarlett  Macdonald, 
and  she  will  give  you  some  dry  clothes;  and  you  will  tell  her 
to  send  Duncan  down  to  Borvapost,  and  bring  up  John  the 
Piper  and  Alisternan-Each,  and  the  lads  of  the  Nighean 
<f?,M,  if  they  are  not  gone  home  to  Habost  yet.  But  it  iss 
John  the  Piper  must  come  directly." 

The  girl  went  away  to  seek  counsel  of  Scarlett  Macdonald, 
Duncan's  wife,  and  Mr.  Mackenzie  proceeded  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  big  and  half-lit  chamber.  Then  he  went  to  the 
cupboard,  and  put  out  on  the  table  a  number  of  tumblers 
and  glasses,  with  two  or  three  O(!d4ooking  bottles  of  Nor- 
wegian make,  consisting  of  four  semicircular  tubes  of  glass, 
meeting  at  top  and  bottom,  leaving  the  center  of  the  vessel 
thus  formed  open.  He  stirred  up  the  blazing  pe^ts  in  the 
fire-place.  He  brought  down  from  a  shelf  a  box  filled  with 
coarse  tobacco,  and  put  it  on  the  table.  But  he  was  evidently 
growing  impatient,  and  at  last  he  put  on  his  cap  again  and 
went  out  into  the  night. 

The  air  blew  cold  in  from  the  sea,  and  whistled  through 
the  bushes  that  Sheila  had  trained  about  the  porch.  There 
was  no  rain  now,  but  a  great  and  heavy  darkness  brooded 
overhead,  and  in  th:;  silence  he  could  hear  the  breaking  of 
the  waves  along  the  hard  const.  But  what  was  this  other 
sound  he  heard,  wild  and  strange  in  the  stillness  of  the  night 
—a  shrill  and  plaintive  cry  that  the  distance  softened,  until 
it  aim  -St  seemed  to  be  the  calling  of  a  human  voice  ?  Surely 
those  w-re  words  he  heard,  or  was  it  only  that  the  old,  sad 
air  spvkc  to  him  ? 

For  Lochaber  no  more,  Lochaber  no  more, 

Maybe  to  return  to  Lochaber  no  more. 
That  was  the  message  that  came  to  him  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  sea  and  the  night  and 
the  sky  were  wailing  over  the  loss  of  his  Sheila.     He  walked 
•way  from  the  house  and  up  the  hill  behind.     Led  by  the 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  9 

sound  of  the  pipes,  that  grew  louder  and  more  unearthly  as 
he  approached,  he  found  himself  at  length  on  a  bit  of  high 
table-land  overlooking  the  sea,  where  Sheila  had  had  a  rude 
bench  of  iron  and  wood  fixed  into  the  rock.  On  this  bench 
sat  a  little  old  man,  humpbacked  and  bent,  and  with  long 
white  hair  falling  down  to  his  shoulders.  He  was  playing  the 
pipes — not  wildiy  and  fiercely,  as  if  he  were  at  a  drinking- 
bout  of  the  lads  come  home  from  the  Caithness  fishing,  nor 
yet  gaily  and  proudly,  as  if  he  were  marching  at  the  head  of 
a  bridal  procession,  but  slowly,  mournfully,  monotonously,  as 
though  he  were  having  the  pipes  talk  to  him. 

Mackenzie  touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  the  old  man 
started.  "Is  it  yoa,  Mr.  McKenzie?'  he  said  in  Gaelic. 
"  It  is  a  great  fright  you  have  given  me." 

"Come  down  to  the  house,  john.  The  lads  from  Habo?t 
and  Alister^  and  some  more  will  be  coming;  and  you  will  get 
a  ferry  good  dram,  John,  to  put  wind  in  ihe  pipes." 

"It's  no  dram  I'm  thinking  of,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  And  you  will  have  plenty  of  company  without 
me.  But  I  will  come  down  to  the  house,  Mr.  Mackenzie — 
oh,  yes,  I  will  come  down  to  the  house — but  in  a  little  while 
I  will  come  to  the  house." 

Mackenzie  turned  from  him  with  a  petulant  exclamation, 
and  went  along  and  down  the  hill  rapidly,  as  he  could  hear 
voices  in  the  darkness.  H.;  had  just  got  inLo  the  house  when 
his  visitors  arrived.  The  door  of  the  room  was  opened,  and 
there  appeared  some  six  or  eight  tall  and  stalwart  men,  mostly 
with  profuse  brown  beards  and  weather-beaten  faces,  who 
advanced  into  the  chamber  with  some  show  of  shyness. 
Mackenzie  offered  them  a  rough  and  hearty  welcome,  and 
as  soon  as  their  eyes  had  got  accustomed  to  the  lighc  bade 
them  help  themselves  to  the  whisky  on  the  table.  With  a 
Certain  solemnity  each  poured  out  a  glass  and  drank 
"  ShiainteP  to  his  host  as  if  it  were  some  funeral  rite.  But 
when  he  bade  them  replenish  their  glasses,  and  got  them 
seated  with  their  faces  to  the  blaze  of  the  peats,  then  the 
flood  of  Gaelic  broke  loose.  Had  the  wise  little  girl  from 
Suainabost  warned  these  big  men  ?  There  was  not  a  word 
about  Sheila  uttered.  All  their  talk  was  of  the  reports  that 
had  come  from  Caithness,  and  of  the  improvements  of  the 
small  harbor  near  the  Butt,  and  of  the  black  sea-horse  that 
had  been  seen  in  Lock  Suainabhal,  and  of  some  more  sheep 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


having  been  found  dead  on  the  Pladda  Isles,  shot  by  the 
men  of  the  English  smacks.  Pipes  were  lit,  the  peat  stirred 
up  anew,  another  glass  or  two  of  whisky  drunk,  and  then, 
tlirough  the  haze  of  the  smoke,  the  brown  faces  of  the  men 
could  be  seen  in  eager  controversy,  each  talking  faster  than 
the  other,  and  coniparing  facts  and  fancies  that  had  been 
brooded  pver  thr.juo;h  solitary  nights  of  waiting  on  the  sea. 
Mackenzie  did  not  sit  down  with  them;  he  did  not  even  join 
them  in  their  attention  to  the  curious  whisky-flasks.  He 
paced  up  and  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  occasionally 
being  appealed  to  with  a  story  or  question,  and  showing  by 
his  answers  that  he  was  but  vaguely  hearing  the  vociferous 
talk  of  his  companions.  At  last  he  said,  "Why  the  teffle 
does  not  John  the  Piper  come  ?  Here,  you  men — you  sing 
a  song,  quick!  None  of  your  funeral  songs,  but  a  good 
brisk  one  of  trinking  and  fighting." 

But  were  not  nearly  all  their  soligs— like  those  of  all  dwell- 
ers on  a  rocky  and  dangerous  coast— of  a  sad  and  sombre 
hue,  telling  of  maidens  whose  lovers  were  drowned,  and  of 
wives  bidding  farewell  to  husbands  they  were  never  to  see 
again  ?  Slow  and  mournful  are  the  songs  that  the  Northern 
fishermen  sing  as  they  set  out  in  the  evening,  with  the  creak- 
mg  of  the  long  oars  keeping  time  to  the  music,  until  they 
get  out  beyond  the  shore  to  hoist  the  red  mainsail  and  catch 
the  breeze  blowing  over  from  the  regions  of  the  sunset.  Not 
one  of  these  Habost  fishermen  could  sing  a  brisk  song,  but 
the  nearest  approach  to  it  was  a  ballad  in  praise  of  a  dark- 
haired  girl,  which  they,  owning  the  Nighean  duhh,  were 
bound  to  knov/.  And  so  one  young  fellow  began  to  sing, 
"  Mo  Nighean  dubh  d'fhas  boidhtach  dubh,  mo  Nighean 
dubhnatreig  mi,"*  in  a  slow  and  doleful  fashion,  and  the 
others  joined  in  the  chorus  with  a  like  solemnity.  In  order 
to  keep  time,  four  of  the  men  followed  the  common  custom 
of  taking  a  pocket  handkerchief  (in  this  case  an  immense 
piece  of  brilliant  red  silk,  which  was  evidently  the  pride  of 
its  owner),  and  holding  it  by  the  four  corners  letting  it  slow- 
ly rise  and  fall  as  they  sang.  The  other  three  men  laid  hold 
of  a  bit  of  rope,  v/hich  they  used  for  the  same  purpose.  "  Mo 
Nighean  dubh,"  unlike  most  of  the  Gaelic  songs,  has  but  a 
few  verses;  and,  as  soon  as  they  were  finished,  the  young 

.*.'.' f^y  tlack-haired  girl,  my  pretty  pirl,   my  black-haired   girl,  don't  leave  me." 
Xsiglitjiiii  diiL-h       js  proaouuced  "  Nycaa  du." 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  II 

fellow,  who  seemed  pleased  with  his  performance,  started 
another  ballad.  Perhaps  he  had  forgotten  his  host's  injunc- 
tion, perhaps  he  knew  no  merrier  song,  but  at  any  rate  he 
began  to  sing  the  "  Lament  of  jNIonaltrie."  It  was  one  of 
Sheila's  songs.  She  had  sung  it  the  night  before  in  this  very 
room,  and  her  father  had  listened  to  her  describing  the  fate 
of  young  Monaltrie  as  if  she  had  been  foretelling  her  own, 
and  scarcely  dared  to  ask  himself  if  ever  again  heshould  hear 
the  voice  that  he  loved  so  well.  He  could  not  listen  to  the 
song.  He  abruptly  left  the  room  and  went  out  once  more 
into  the  cool  night-air  and  the  darkness.  But  even  here  he 
was  not  allowed  to  forget  the  sorrow  he  had  been  vainly  en- 
deavoring to  banish,  for  in  the  far  distance  the  pipes  still 
played  the  melancholy  wail  of  Lochaber. 

Lochaber  no  more!     Lochaber  no  more! 
— that  was  the  only  solace  brought  him  by  the  winds  from 
the  sea;  and  there  were  tears  running  down  the  hard  gray 
face  as  he  said  to  himself,   in  a  broken  voice,  "  Sheila,  my 
little  girl,  why  did  you  go  away  from  Borva?" 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    FAIR-HAIRED    STRANGER. 

"  Why  you  must  be  in  love  with  her  yourself!" 
'•  I  in  love  with  her  ?     Sheila  and  I  are  too  old  friends  for 
that!" 

The  speakers  were  two  young  men  seated  in  the  stern  of  the 
steamer  Clansman  as  she  ploughed  her  way  across  the  blue 
and  rushing  waters  of  the  Minch.  One  of  them  was  a  tall 
young  fellow  of  three-and-twenty,  with  fair  hair  and  light  blue 
eyes,  whose  delicate  and  mobile  features  were  handsome 
enough  in  their  way,  and  gave  evidence  of  a  nature  at  once 
sensitive,  nervous  and  impulsive.  He  was  clad  in  light  gray 
from  head  to  heel — a  color  that  suited  his  fair  complexion 
and  yellow  hair;  and  he  lounged  about  the  white  deck  in  the 
glare  of  the  sunlight,  steadying  himself  from  time  to  time  as 
an  unusually  big  wave  carried  the  Clansman  aloft  for  a  second 
or  two,  and  then  sent  her  staggering  and  groaning  into  a  hiss- 
ing trough  of  foam.  Now  and  agamhe  v/ould  pause  in  front 
of  his  companion,  and  talk  in  a  rapid,  playful,  and  even  elo- 
quent fashion  for  a  minute  or  two;  and  then,  apparently  a 
trifle   annoyed   by   the   slow   and   patient   attention   which 


12  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

greeted  his  oratorical  efforts,  would  start  off  once  more  on 
his  unsteady  journey  up  and  down  the  white  planks. 

The  other  was  a  man  of  thirty-eight,  of  middle  height, 
sallow  complexion  and  generally  insignificant  appearance. 
His  hair  was  becoming  prematurely  gray.  He  rarely  spoke. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  rough  blue  cloth,  and  indeed 
looked  somewhat  like  a  pilot  who  had  gone  ashore,  taken  to 
study  and  never  recovered  himself.  A  stranger  would  have 
noticed  the  tall  and  fair  young  man  who  walked  up  and  down 
the  gleaming  deck,  evidently  enjoying  the  brisk  breeze  that 
blew  about  his  yellow  hair,  and  the  sunlight  that  touched  his 
pale  and  fine  face  or  sparkled  on  his  teeth  when  he  laughed, 
but  would  have  paid  little  attention  to  the  smaller,  brown- 
faced,  gray-haired  man,  who  lay  back  on  the  bench  with  his 
two  hands  clasped  around  his  knee,  and  with  his  eye  fixed 
on  the  southern  heavens,  while  he  murmured  to  himself  the 
lines  of  some  ridiculous  old  Devonshire  ballad  or  replied  in 
monosyllables  to  the  rapid  and  ea^^er  talk  of  his  friend. 

Both  men  were  good  sailors,  and  they  had  need  to  be,  for 
although  the  sky  above  them  was  as  blue  and  clear  as  the 
heart  of  the  sapphire,  and  although  the  sunlight  shone  on  the 
decks  and  the  rigginc'-,  a  strong  north-easter  had  been  blow- 
ing all  the  morning,  and  there  was  a  considerable  sea  on. 
The  far  blue  plain  vras  whitened  with  the  tumbling  crests  of 
the  waves,  that  shone  and  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  ever  and 
anon  a  volume  of  water  would  strike  the  Clansman's  bow, 
rise  high  in  the  air  with  the  shock,  and  fall  in  heavy  showers 
over  the  forward  decks.  Sometimes,  too,  a  wave  caught  her 
broadside,  and  sent  a  handful  of  spray  over  the  two  or  three 
passengers  who  were  safe  in  the  stern;  but  the  decks  here  re- 
mained silvery  and  white,  for  the  sun  and  wind  speedily 
dried  up  the  traces  of  the  sea-showers. 

At  length  the  taller  of  the  young  men  came  and  sat  down 
by  his  companion  :  "  How  far  to  Stornoway  yet  ?  " 

"  An  hour." 

"By  Jove,  what  a  distance!  All  day  yesterday  getting  up 
from  Oban  to  Skye,  all  last  night  churning  our  way  up  to 
Loch  Gair,  all  to-day  crossing  to  this  outlandish  island,  that 
seems  as  far  away  as  Iceland ; — and  for  what  ?  " 

"  But  don't  you  remember  the  moonlight  last  night  as  we 
sailed  by  the  Cuchullins  ?  And  the  sunrise  this  morning  as 
we  lay  in  Loch  Gair?     Were  not  these  worth  coming  for." 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  I3 

"But  that  was  not  what  you  came  for,  my  dear  friend. 
No.  You  came  to  carry  off  this  wonderful  Miss  Sheila  of 
yours,  and  of  course  you  wanted  somebody  to  look  on ;  and 
here  I  am,  ready  to  carry  the  ladder  and  the  dark  lantern 
and  the  marriage-license.  I  will  saddle  your  steeds  for  you 
and  row  you  over  lakes,  and  generally  do  anything  to  help 
you  in  so  romantic  an  enterprise." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  Lavender,"  said  the  other  with  a 
smile,  "  but  such  adventures  are  not  for  old  fogies  like  me. 
They  are  the  exclusive  right  of  young  fellows  like  you,  wlio 
are  tall  and  well-favored,  have  plenty  of  money  and  good 
spirits,  and  have  a  way  with  you  that  all  the  world  admires. 
Of  course  the  bride  will  tread  a  measure  with  you.  Of  course 
all  the  bridesmaids  would  like  to  see  you  marry  her.  Of 
course  she  will  taste  the  cup  you  offer  her.  Then  a  word  in 
her  ear,  and  away  you  go  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world,  and  as  if  the  bridegroom  was  a  despicable  crea- 
ture merely  because  God  had  only  given  him  five  feet  six 
inches.     But  you  couldn't  have  a  Lochinvar  five  feet  six. 

The  younger  man  blushed  like  a  girl  and  laughed  a  little, 
and  was  evidently  greatly  pleased.  Nay,  in  the  height  of  his 
generosity  he  began  to  protest.  He  would  not  have  his 
friend  imagine  that  women  cared  only  for  stature  and  good 
looks.  There  were  other  qualities.  He  himself  had  ob- 
served the  most  singular  conquests  made  by  men  who  were 
not  good-looking,  but  who  had  a  certain  fascination  about 
them.  His  own  experience  of  women  was  considerable,  and 
he  was  quite  certain  that  the  best  women,  now — the  sort  of 
women  whom  a  man  would  respect — the  women  who  had 
brains — 

And  so  forth  and  so  forth.  The  other  listened  quite 
gravely  to  these  well-meant,  kindly,  blundering  explanations, 
and  only  one  who  watched  his  face  narrowly  could  have  de- 
tected in  the  brown  eyes  a  sort  of  amused  consciousness  of 
the  intentions  of  the  amiable  and  ingenuous  youth. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me,  Ingram,"  continued 
Lavender,  in  his  rapid  and  impetuous  way,  "do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  this  Highland  prin- 
cess? For  ages  back  you  have  talked  of  nothing  but 
Sheila.  How  many  an  hour  have  I  spent  in  clubs,  up  the 
river,  down  at  the  coast,  everywhere,  listening  to  your  stories 
of  Sheila,  and  your  praises  of  Sheiia,  and  your  descriptions  of 


14 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 


Sheila!  It  was  always  Sheila,  and  again  Sheila,  and  still  again 
Sheila.  But,  do  you  know,  either  you  exagcerated  or  I  failed 
to  understand  your  desciiptions;  for  the  S  .eila  I  came  to 
construct  out  of  your  talk,  is  a  nnost  incongruous  and  incom- 
prehensible creature.  First,  Sheiia  knows  about  stone  and 
lime  and  building;  and  then  I  suppose  her  to  be  a  practical 
young  woman,  who  is  a  sort  of  overseer  to  her  father.  But 
Shei'a,  again,  is  romantic  and  mysterious,  and  believes  in 
visions  and  dreams;  and  then  I  take  her  to  be  an  affec'ed 
school-miss.  But  then  Sheila  can  throw  a  fly  and  play  her 
sixteen-pounder,  and  Sheila  can  adventure  upon  the  lochs  in 
an  open  boat,  managing  the  sail  herself;  and  then  I  find 
her  to  be  a  tom-boy.  But,  again,  Sheila  is  shy  and  rarely 
speaks,  but  locks  unutterable  things  with  her  soft  and  magnifi- 
cent eyes;  and  what  does  that  mean  but  that  she  is  an  ordin- 
ary young  lady,  who  has  not  been  in  society,  and  who  is  a  little 
interesting,  if  a  little  stupid,  while  she  is  unmarried,  and  who, 
after  marriage,  calmly  and  complacently  sinks  into  the  dull 
domestic  hind,  whose  only  thought  is  of  butchers'  bills  and 
perambulators!" 

This  was  a  fairly  long  speech,  but  it  was  no  longer  than 
many  which  Frank  Lavender  was  accustomed  to  utter  when 
in  the  vein  for  talking.  His  friend  and  companion  did  not 
pay  much  heed.  His  hands  vere  still  clasped  around  his 
knee,  his  head  leaning  back,  and  all  the  answer  he  made  was 
to  repeat,  apparently  to  himself,  these  not  very  pertinent  lines: 

"  In  Oekington,  in  Devonsheer, 
My  vather  he  lived  vor  many  a  yeer: 
And  I,  his  son,  with  him  did  dwell, 
To  tend  his  sheep:  'twas  dolefid  well. 
Diddle-diddle!" 

"You  know,  Ingram,  it  must  be  precious  hard  for  man 
who  has  to  knock  about  in  society,  and  take  his  wife  with 
him,  to  have  to  explain  to  everybody  that  she  is  in  reality  a 
most  unusual  and  gifted  young  person,  and  that  she  must 
not  be  expected  to  talk.  Ic  is  ail  very  well  for  him  in  his  own 
house— that  is  to  say,  if  he  can  preserve  all  the  sentiment 
that  made  her  shyness  fine  and  wonderful  before  their  mar- 
riage—but  a  man  owes  a  little  to  society,  even  in  choosing  a 
wife." 

Another  pause. 

"It  happened  on  a  zartin  day 
Four-score  o'  the  sheep  they  rinned  astray 
Says  vather  to  1,  'Jack,  rin  arter  'm,  du! 
Says  1  to  vather,  'I'm  darned  it  1  du!' 

Uiddle-diddlel " 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  1 5 

"Now  you  are  the  sort  of  a  man,  I  should  think,  who 
would  never  get  careless  about  your  wife.  You  would 
always  believe  about  her  what  you  believed  at  first;  and  I 
dare  say  you  would  live  very  happily  in  your  own  house  if 
she  was  a  decent  sort  of  woman.  But  you  would  have  to  go 
out  into  society  sometimes;  and  the  very  fact  that  you  had 
not  got  careless — as  many  men  would,  leaving  their  wives  to 
produce  any  sort  of  impression  they  might — would  make  you 
vexed  that  the  world  could  not,  off-hand,  value  your  wife  as 
you  fancy  she  ought  to  be  valued.     Don't  you  see  ?" 

This  was  the  answer: 

"  Puvoket  much  at  my  rude  tongue, 
A  dish  o'  brath  at  me  he  vlung, 
Which  so  incensed  me  to  wrath. 
That  I  up  an'  knack  un  instantly  to  arth, 
Diddle-diddle !" 

"  As  for  your  Princess  Sheila,  I  firmly  believe  you  have 
some  romantic  notion  of  marrying  her  and  taking  her  up  to 
London  with  you.  If  you  seriously  intend  such  a  thing,  I 
shall  not  argue  with  you.  I  shall  praise  her  by  the  hour 
together,  for  I  may  have  to  depend  on  Mrs.  Edward  Ingram 
for  my  admission  to  your  house.  But  if  you  only  have  the 
fancy  as  a  fancy,  consider  what  the  result  would  be.  You 
say  she  has  never  been  to  a  school;  that  she  has  never  had 
the  companionship  of  a  girl  of  her  own  age;  that  she  has 
never  read  a  newspaper;  that  she  has  never  been  out  of  this 
island;  and  that  almost  her  sole  society  has  been  that  of  her 
mother,  who  educated  her  and  tended  her,  and  left  her  as 
ignorant  of  the  real  world  as  if  she  had  lived  all  her  life  in 
a  lighthouse.  Goodness  gracious!  what  a  figure  such  a  girl 
would  cut  in  South  Kensington!" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Ingram  at  last,  "  don't  be  absurd. 
You  will  soon  see  what  are  the  relations  between  Sheila 
Mackenzie  and  me,  and  you  will  be  satisfied.  I  marry  her  ? 
Do  you  think  I  would  take  the  child  to  London  to  show  her 
its  extravagance  and  shallow  society,  and  break  her  heart 
with  thinking  of  the  sea,  and  of  the  rude  islanders  she  knew, 
and  of  their  hard  and  bitter  struggle  for  life  ?  No.  I  should 
not  like  to  see  my  wild  Highland  doe  shut  up  in  one  of  your 
Siouthern  parks,  among  your  tame  fallow-deer.  She  would 
look  at  them  askance.  She  would  separate  herself  from  them, 
and  by  and  by  she  would  make  one  wild  effort  to  escape  and 
kill  herself.     That  is  not  the  fate  in  store  for  our  good  little 


l6  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

Sheila;  so  you  need  not  make  yourself  unhappy  about  her  oi 


me. 


"  '  Now  all  ye  young  men,  of  every  persuasion, _ 
Never  quarl  wi'  your  vather  upon  any  occasion; 
For  instead  of  being  better,  you'll  vind  you'll  be  wuss, 
For  he'll  kick  you  out  o'  doors,  without  a  varden  in  your  puss. 
Diddle-diddle  !" 

"  Talking  of  Devonshire,  how  is  that  young  American 
lady  you  met  at  Torquay  in  the  Spring  ?" 

"  There,  now,  is  the  sort  of  woman  a  man  would  be  safe 
in  marrying!" 
''And  how?" 

"Oh,  well,  you  know,"  said  Frank  Lavender,  "  I  mean 
the  sort  of  woman-who  would  do  you  credit— hold  her  own 
in  society,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  You  must  meet  her  some 
day.  I  tell  you,  Ingram,  you  will  be  delighted  and  charmed 
with  her  manners,  and  her  grace,  and  the  clever  thmgs  she 
says;  at  least,  everybody  else  is." 
"  Ah,  well!" 

"You  don't  seem  to  care  much  for  brilliant  women,  re- 
marked the  other,  rather  disappointed  that  his  companion 
showed  so  little  interest. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  like  brilliant  women  very  well.  A  clever 
woman  is  always  a  pleasanter  companion  than  a  clever  man. 
But  you  were  talking  of  the  choice  of  a  wife;  and  pertness 
in  a  girl,  although  it  may  be  amusing  at  the  time,  may  be- 
come something  else  by  and  by.  Indeed,  I  shouldn't  advise 
a  young  man  to  marry  an  epigrammatist,  for  you  see  her 
shrewdness  and  smartness  are  generally  the  result  of  experi- 
ences in  which  /le  has  had  no  share," 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that,"  said  Lavender;  "but 
of  course,  you  know,  with  a  widow  it  is  different;  and  Mrs. 
Lorraine  never  does  go  in  for  the  ingenue:''  _ 

The  pale  blue  cloud  that  had  for  some  time  been  lying 
faintly  along  the  horizon  now  came  nearer  and  more  near, 
until  they  could  pick  out  something  like  the  configuration 
of  the  island,  its  bays  and  promontories  and  mountains. 
The  day  seemed  to  become  warmer  as  they  got  out  of  the 
driving  wind  of  the  Channel,  and  the  heavy  roll  of  the  sea 
had  so  far  subsided.  Through  comparatively  calm  water  the 
great  Clansman  drove  her  away,  until,  on  getting  near  the 
land  and  under  shelter  of  the  peninsula  of  Eye,  the  voyagers 
found  themselves  on  a  beautiful  blue  plain,  with  the  spacious 


A    PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  17 

aarbor  of  Stornoway  opening  out  before  them.  There,  on 
th?  one  side,  lay  a  white  and  cleanly  town,  with  its  shops, 
and  quays  and  shipping.  Above  the  bay  in  front  stood  a 
great  gray  castle,  surrounded  by  pleasure-grounds  and  ter- 
races and  gardens;  while  on  the  southern  side  the  harbor 
was  overlooked  by  a  semi-circle  of  hills,  planted  with  every 
variety  of  tree.  The  white  houses,  the  blue  bay  and  the 
large  gray  building  set  amid  gre  n  terraces  and  overlooked 
by  wooded  hills,  formed  a  bright  and  lively  httle  picture  on 
this  fresh  and  brilliant  forenoon;  and  young  Lavender,  who 
had  a  quick  eye  for  compositions  which  he  was  always  about 
to  undertake,  but  which  never  appeared  on  canvas,  declared 
enthusiastically  that  he  would  spend  a  day  or  two  in  Storno- 
way on  his  return  from  Borva,  and  take  home  with  him  some 
sketch  of  the  place. 

''And  is  Miss  Sheila  on  the  quay,  yonder?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  likely,"  said  Ingram.  *'  It  is  a  long  drive  across  the 
island,  and  I  suppose  she  would  remain  at  home  to  look  after 
our  dinner  in  the  evening." 

"What?  The  wonderful  Princess  Sheila  look  after  our 
dinner  !  Has  she  visions  among  the  pots  and  pans,  and 
does  she  look  unutterable  things  when  she  is  peeling  pota- 
toes?" 

Ingram  laughed  :  "  There  will  a  pretty  alteration  in  your 
tune  in  a  couple  of  days.  You  are  sure  to  fall  in  love  with 
her,  and  sigh  desperately  for  a  week  or  two.  You  always  do 
when  you  meet  a  woman  anywhere.  But  it  won't  hurt  you 
much,  and  she  wont  know  anything  about  it." 

"I  should  rather  like  to  fall  in  love  with  her  to  see  how 
furiously  jealous  you  would  become.  However,  here  we 
are." 

"And  there  is  Mackenzie — the  man  with  the  big  gray 
beard  and  the  peaked  cap — and  he  is  talking  to  the  cham- 
berlain of  the  island."' 

"  What  does  he  get  up  on  his  wagonette  for,  instead  of 
coming  on  board  to  meet  you?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  one  of  his  little  tricks,"  said  Ingram,  with  a 
good-humored  smile.  "  He  means  to  receive  us  in  state,  and 
impress  you,  a  stranger,  with  his  dignity.  The  good  old 
fellow  has  a  hundred  harmless  ways  like  that,  and  you  must 
humor  him.  He  has  been  accustomed  to  be  treated  en  roi, 
you  know." 


l8  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"Then  the  papa  of  the  mysterious  princess  is  not  per- 
fect ?" 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  you  now  that  Mackenzie's  oddest 
notion  is  that  he  has  awonderful  skill  in  managing  men,  and 
in  concealing  the  manner  of  his  doing  it.  I  tell  you  this  that 
you  mayn't  laugh  and  hurt  him  when  he  is  attempting  some- 
thing that  he  considers  particularly  crafty,  and  that  a  child 
could  see  through." 

"  But  what  is  the  aim  of  it  all  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing." 

"  He  does  not  do  a  little  bet  occasionally  ?" 

"Oh,  dear!  no.  He  is  the  best  and  honestest  fellow  in 
the  world,  but  it  pleases  him  to  fancy  that  he  is  profoundly 
astute,  and  that  other  people  don't  see  the  artfulness  with 
which  he  reaches  some  little  result  that  is  not  of  the  least 
consequence  to  anybody." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Lavender,  with  a  coolness 
and  shrewdness  that  rather  surprised  his  companion,  "  that  it 
would  not  be  difficult  to  get  the  King  of  Borva  to  assume  the 
honors  of  a  papa-in-law." 

The  steamer  was  moored  at  last;  the  crowd  of  fishermen 
and  loungers  drew  near  to  meet  their  friends  who  had  come 
up  from  Glasgow — for  there  are  few  strangers,  as  a  rule, 
arriving  at  Stornoway  to  whet  the  curiosity  of  the  islanders — 
and  the  tall  gillie  who  had  been  standing  by  Mackenzie's 
horses  came  on  board  to  get  the  luggage  of  the  young  men. 

"  Well,  Duncan,"  said  the  elder  of  them,  "  and  how  are 
you,  and  how  is  Mr.  Mackenzie,  and  how  is  Miss  Sheila? 
You  have  not  brought  her  with  you,  I  see." 

"  But  Miss  Sheila  is  ferry  well,  whatever,  Mr.  Ingram,  and 
it  is  a  great  day,  this  day,  for  her,  tat  you  will  be  coming  to 
the  Lewis;  and  it  wass  tis  morning  she  wass  up  at  ta  break  o' 
day,  and  up  ta  hills  ta  get  some  bits  o'  green  things  for  ta 
rooms  you  will  hef,  Mr.  Ingram.  Ay,  it  iss  a  great  day,  tis 
day,  for  Miss  Sheila." 

"  By  Jove,  they  all  rave  about  Sheila  up  in  this  quarter!" 
said  Lavender,  giving  Duncan  a  fishing-rod  and  a  bag  he  had 
brought  from  the  cabin.  "  I  suppose  in  a  Aveek's  time  I  shall 
begin  to  rave  about  her,  too.  Look  sharp,  Ingram,  and  let 
us  have  audience  of  His  Majesty." 

The  King  of  Borva  fixed  his  eye  on  young  Lavender,  and 
scanned  him  narrowly  as  he  was  being  introduced.     His  wel- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  ip 

come  of  Ingram  had  been  most  gracious  and  friendly,  but 
he  received  his  companion  with  something  of  a  severe  pohte- 
ness.  He  requested  him  to  take  a  seat  beside  him,  so  that  he 
might  see  the  country  as  they  went  across  to  Borva;  and 
Lavender  having  done  so,  Ingram  and  Duncan  got  into  the 
body  of  the  wagonette,  and  the  party  drove  off. 

Passing  through  the  clean  and  bright  little  town,  Macken- 
zie suddenly  pulled  up  his  horses  in  front  of  a  small  shop,  in 
the  windows  of  which  some  cheap  bits  of  jewelry  were  visible. 
The  man  came  out,  and  Mr.  Mackenzie  explained  with  some 
care  and  precision  that  he  wanted  a  silver  brooch  of  a  par- 
ticular sort.  While  the  jeweler  had  returned  to  seek  the 
article  in  question,  Frank  Lavender  was  gazing  around  him 
in  some  wonder  at  the  appearance  of  so  much  civilization  on 
this  remote  and  rarely  visited  island.  There  were  no  hag- 
gard savages,  unkempt  and  scantily  clad,  coming  forth  from 
their  dens  in  the  rocks  to  stare  wildly  at  the  strangers.  On 
the  contrary,  there  was  a  prevailing  air  of  comfort  and  "bien- 
ness"  about  the  people  and  their  houses.  He  saw  hand- 
some girls  with  coal-black  hair  and  fresh  complexions,  who 
wore  short  and  thick  blue  petticoats,  with  a  scarlet  tartan 
shawl  wrapped  around  their  bosom  and  fastened  at  the  waist; 
stalwart,  thick-set  men,  in  loose  blue  jacket  and  trowsers  and 
scarlet  cap,  many  of  them  with  bushy  red  boards;  and  women 
of  extraordinary  breadth  of  shoulder,  who  carried  enormous 
loads  in  a  creel  strapped  on  their  backs,  while  they  em- 
ployed their  hands  in  contentedly  knitting  stockings  as  they 
passed  along.  But  what  was  the  purpose  of  these  mighty 
loads  of  fish-bones  they  carried — burdens  that  would  have 
appalled  a  railway  porter  of  the  Souih  ? 

"You  will  see,  sir,"  observed  the  King  of  Borva,  in  reply 
to  Lavender's  question,  "  there  is  not  much  of  the  phos- 
phates in  the  grass  of  this  island ;  and  the  cows  they  are  mad 
to  get  the  fish-bones  to  lick,  and  it  is  many  of  them  you  can- 
not milk  unless  you  put  the  bones  before  them.'' 

"  But  why  do  the  lazy  fellows  lounging  about  there  let  the 
women  carry  those  enormous  loads?" 

Mr.  Mackenzie  stared:  "  Lazy  fellows!  They  hef  harder 
work  than  any  who  will  know  of  in  your  country;  and  be- 
sides the  fishing,  they  will  do  the  ploughing  and  much  of  the 
farm  work.  And  iss  the  women  to  do  none  at  all  ?  That  iss 
the  nonsense  that  my  daughter  talks;    but  she  has  got  it  out 


20  A    FRINC    SS    OF    THULE. 

of  books,  and  what  do  they  know  how  the  poor  people  hef 

to  live?"  ^     .  ^  ,    ,.  , 

At  this  moment  the  jeweler  returned  with  some  half  dozen 
brooches  displayed  on  a  plate,  and  shining  with  all  the  bril- 
liancy of  cairngorm  stones,  poUshed  silver  and  variously- 
colored  pebbles. 

"  Now,  John  Mackintyre,  this  is  a  gentleman  from  Lon- 
don," said  Mackenzie,  regarding  the  jeweler  sternly,  "and 
he  will  know  all  apout  such  fine  things,  and  you  will  not  put 
a  big  price  on  them." 

It  was  now  Lavender's  turn  to  stare,  but  he  good-naturedly 
accepted  the  duties  of  referee,  and  eventually  a  brooch  was 
selected  and  paid  for,  the  price  being  six  shillings.  Then 
they  drove  on  again. 

"Sheila  will  know  nothing  of  this  ;  it  will  be  a  great  sur- 
prise for  her,"  said  Mackenzie,  almost  to  himself,  as  he 
opened  the  white  box,  and  saw  the  glaring  piece  of  jewelry 
lying  on  the  white  cotton. 

"  Good  Heavens,  sir,"  cried  Frank  Lavender,  "  you  don't 
mean  to  say  you  bought  that  brooch  for  your  daughter?" 

''And  why  not?"  said  the  King  of  Borva,  in  great  sur- 
prise. 

The  young  man  perceived  his  mistake,  grew  considerably 
confused,  and  only  said:  "  Well,  I  should  have  thought  tliat 
—that  some  small  piece  of  gold  jewelry,  now,  would  be  better 
suited  for  a  young  lady." 

Mackenzie  smiled  shrewdly:  "I  had  something  to  go  on. 
It  was  Sheila  herself  was  in  Stornoway  three  weeks  ago,  and 
she  was  wanting  to  buy  a  brooch  for  a  young  girl  who  had 
come  down  to  us  from  Suainabost,  and  is  very  useful  in  the 
kitchen,  and  it  wass  a  brooch,  just  like  this  one,  she  gave  to 
her." 

"  Yes,  to  a  kitchen-maid,"  said  the  young  man,  meekly. 

"  But  Mairi  is  Sheila's  cousin,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  con- 
tinued surprise. 

"  Lavender  does  not  understand  Highland  ways  yet,  Mr. 
Mackenzie,"  said  Ingram,  from  behind.  "You  know  we,  in 
the  South,  have  different  fashions.  Our  servants  are  nearly 
always  strangers  to  us— not  relations  and  companions." 

"  Oh,  I  hef  peen  in  London  myself,"  said  Mackenzie,  in 
somewhat  of  an  injured  tone;  and  then  he  added,  with  a 
touch  of  satisfaction:  "and  I  hef  been  in  Paris,  too." 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  21 

"  And  Miss  Sheila,  has  she  been  in  London?  "  asked  Lav' 
ender,  feigning  ignorance. 

"  She  has  never  been  out  of  the  Lewis.'* 

"  But  don't  you  think  the  education  of  a  young  lady  should 
include  some  litde  experience  of  traveling  ?  " 

"Sheila,  she  will  be  educated  quite  enough;  and  is  she 
going  to  London  or  Paris  without  me  ?  " 

"  You  might  take  her.'' 

"  I  have  too  much  to  do  on  the  island  now,  and  Sheila  has 
much  to  do.  I  do  not  think  she  will  ever  see  any  of  those 
places,  and  she  will  not  be  much  the  worse." 

Two  young  men  off  for  their  holidays,  a  brilliant  day  shin- 
ing all  around  them,  the  sweet  air  of  the  sea  and  the  moor- 
land blowing  about  them — this  little  party  that  now  drove 
away  from  Stornoway  ought  to  have  been  in  the  best  of 
spirits.  And  indeed  the  young  fellow  who  sat  beside  Mac- 
kenzie was  bent  on  pleasing  his  host  by  praising  everything 
he  saw.  He  praised  the  gallant  lictle  horses  that  whirled 
them  past  the  plantations  and  into  the  open  country.  He 
praised  the  rich  black  peat  that  was  visible  in  long  lines  and 
heaps,  where  the  townspeople  were  slowly  eating  into  the 
moorland.  Then  all  these  traces  of  occupation  were  left  be- 
hind, and  the  travelers  were  alone  in  the  untenanted  heart  of 
the  island,  where  the  only  sounds  audible  were  the  humming 
of  insects  in  the  sunlight  and  the  falling  of  the  streams. 
Away  in  the  south  the  mountains  were  of  a  silvery  and  trans- 
parent blue.  Nearer  at  hand  the  rich  reds  and  browns  of 
the  moorland  softened  into  a  tender  and  beautiful  green  on 
nearing  the  margins  of  the  lakes;  and  these  stretches  of 
water  were  now  as  fair  and  bright  as  the  sky  above  them, 
and  were  scarcely  ruffled  by  the  moorfowl  moving  out  from 
the  green  rushes.  Still  nearer  at  hand  great  masses  of  white 
rock  lay  embedded  in  the  soft  soil;  and  what  could  have 
harmonized  better  wiih  the  rough  and  silver-gray  surface  than 
the  patches  of  rose-red  bell-heather  that  grew  up  in  the 
clefts  or  hung  over  their  summits.  The  various  and  beauti- 
ful colors  around  seemed  to  tingle  with  light  and  warmth  as 
the  clear  sun  shone  on  them  and  the  keen  mountain  air  blew 
over  them;  and  the  King  of  Borva  was  so  far  tliawed  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  companions  that  he  regarded  the  fair  coun- 
try with  a  pleased  smile,  as  if  the  enchanted  land  belonged 
to  him,  and  as  if  the  wonderful  colors  and  the  exhilarating 
air  and  the  sweet  perfumes  were  of  his  own  creation. 


22  A    PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  did  not  know  much  about  tints  and  hues, 
but  he  believed  what  he  heard ;  and  it  was  perhaps,  after  all, 
not  very  surprising  that  a  gentleman  from  London,  who  had 
skill  of  pictures  and  other  delicate  matters,  should  find 
strange  marvels  in  a  common  stretch  of  moor,  with  a  few 
lakes  here  and  there,  and  some  lines  of  mountains  only  good 
for  sheilings.  It  was  not  for  him  to  check  the  raptures  of 
his  guest.  He  began  to  be  friendly  with  the  young  man, 
and  could  not  help  regarding  him  as  a  more  cheerful  com- 
panion than  his  neighbor  Ingram,  who  would  sit  by  your  side 
for  an  hour  at  a  time  without  breaking  the  monotony  of  the 
horses'  tramp  with  a  single  remark.  He  had  formed  a  poor 
opinion  of  Lavender's  ph3'sique  from  the  first  glimpse  he  had 
of  his  white  fingers  and  girl-iike  complexion;  but  surely  a 
man  who  had  such  a  vast  amount  of  good  spirits  and  such  a 
rapidity  of  utterance  must  have  something  corresponding  to 
these  qualities  in  substantial  bone  and  muscle.  There  was 
something  pleasing  and  ingenuous  too  about  this  flow  of  talk. 
Men  who  had  arrived  at  years  of  wisdom,  and  knew  how  to 
study  and  use  their  fellows,  were  not  to  be  led  into  these 
betrayals  of  their  secret  opinions;  but  for  a  young  man — 
what  could  be  more  pleasing  than  to  see  him  lay  open  his 
soul  to  the  observant  eye  of  a  master  of  men  ?  ilackenzie 
began  to  talce  a  great  fancy  to  young  Lavender. 

"  Why,"  said  Lavender,  with  a  fine  color  mantling  in  his 
cheeks  as  the  wind  caught  them  on  a  higher  portion  of  the 
road.  "I  had  heard  of  Lewis  as  a  most  bleak  and  desolate 
island,  fiat  moorland  and  lake,  without  a  hill  to  be  seen.  And 
everywhere  I  see  hills,  and  yonder  are  great  mountains  which 
I  hope  to  get  nearer  before  we  leave." 

"  We  have  mountains  in  this  island,"  remarked  Mackenzie 
slowly  as  he  kept  his  eye  on  his  companion,  ''we  have  moun- 
tains in  this  island  sixteen  thousand  fe^t  high." 

Lavender  looked  sufficiently  astonished,  and  the  old  man 
was  pleased.  He  paused  for  a  moment  or  two  and  said. 
<*  But  this  iss  the  way  of  it:  you  will  see  that  the  middle  of 
the  mountains  it  has  all  been  washed  away  by  the  weather, 
and  you  will  only  have  the  sides  now  dipping  one  way  and 
the  other  at  each  side  o'  the  island.  But  it  iss  a  very  clever 
man  in  Stornoway  will  tell  me  that  you  can  make  out  what 
wass  the  height  o'  the  mountain,  by  watching  the  dipping  of 
the  rocks  on  each  side;  and  it  iss  an  older  country,  this  island. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULK.  23 

than  any  you  will  know  of;  and  there  were  the  mountains  six- 
teen thousand  feet  high  long  before  all  this  country  and  all 
Scotland  and  England  wass  covered  with  ice." 

The  young  man  was  very  desirous  to  show  his  interest  in 
this  matter,  but  did  not  know  very  well  how.  At  last  he  ven- 
tured to  ask  whether  there  were  any  fossils  in  the  blocks  of 
gneiss  that  were  scattered  over  the  moorland. 

"Fossils?"  said  Mackenzie.  "Oh,  I  will  not  care  much 
about  such  small  things.  If  you  will  ask  Sheila,  she  Avill  tell 
you  all  about  it,  and  about  the  small  things  she  finds  growing 
on  the  hills.  That  is  not  of  much  consequence  to  me;  but  I 
will  tell  you  what  is  the  best  thing  the  island  grows;  it  is 
good  girls  and  strong  men — men  that  can  go  to  the  fishing 
and  come  back  to  plough  the  fields  and  cut  the  peat  and 
build  the  houses,  and  leave  the  women  to  look  after  the 
fields  and  the  gardens  when  they  go  back  again  to  the  fish- 
eries. But  it  is  the  old  people — they  are  ferry  cunning,  and 
they  will  not  put  their  money  in  the  bank  at  Stornoway,  but 
will  hide  it  away  about  the  house,  and  then  they  will  come 
to  Sheila  and  ask  for  money  to  put  a  pane  of  glass  in  their 
house.  And  she  has  promised  that  to  every  one  who  will 
make  a  window  in  the  wall  of  their  house;  and  she  is  very 
simple  with  them  and  does  not  understand  the  old  people 
that  tell  lies.  But  when  I  hear  of  it  1  say  nothing  to  Sheila 
— she  will  know  nothing  about  it — but  I  have  a  watch  put 
upon  the  people;  and  it  was  only  yesterday  I  will  take  back 
two  shillings  she  gave  to  an  old  woman  of  Borvabost  that 
told  many  lies.  What  does  a  young  thing  know  of  these  old 
people?  She  will  know  nothing  at  all,  and  it  is  better  for 
some  one  else  to  look  after  them,  but  not  to  speak  one  word 
of  it  to  her." 

"It  must  require  great  astuteness  to  manage  a  primitive 
people  like  that,"  said  young  Lavender,  with  an  air  of  con- 
viction; and  tue  old  man  eagerly  and  proudly  assented,  and 
went  on  to  tell  of  the  manifold  diplomatic  arts  he  used  in 
reigning  over  his  sm.all  kingdom,  and  how  his  subjects  lived 
in  blissful  ignorance  that  this  controlling  power  was  being 
exercised. 

They  were  startled  by  an  exclamation  from  Ingram,  who 
called  to  Mackenzie  to  pull  up  the  horses  just  as  they  were 
passing  over  a  small  bridge. 

"Look  there,  Lavender,  did  you  ever  see  salmon  jumping 
like  that  ?    Look  at  the  size  of  tlicm!" 


24  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  Oh,  it  iss  nothing,''  said    Mackenzie,  driving  on  again.^ 
"Where  you  will  see  the  salmon,  it  is  in  the  narrows  of  Loch 
Roag,  where  they  come  into  the  rivers,  and  the  tide  is  low. 
Then  you  will  see  them  jumping;  and  if  the  water  wass  too 
low  for  a  long  time,  they  will  die  in  hundreds  and  hundreds." 

"But  what  makes  them  jump  before  they  get  into  the 
rivers?" 

Old  Mackenzie  smiled  a  crafty  smile,  as  if  he  had  found 
out  all  the  ways  and  the  secrets  of  the  salmon.  "  They  will 
jump  to  look  about  them — that  iss  all." 

"  Do  you  think  a  salmon  can  see  where  he  is  going  ?  " 

"  And  maybe  you  will  explain  this  to  me,  then,"  said  the 
king,  with  a  compassionate  air,  "how  iss  it  the  salmon  will 
try  to  jump  over  some  stones  in  the  river,  and  he  will  see  he 
can't  go  over  them ;  but  does  he  fall  straight  down  on  the 
stones  and  kill  himself?  Neffer — no,  neffer.  He  will  get 
back  to  the  pool  he  left  by  turning  in  the  air;  that  is  what  I 
hef  seen  hundreds  of  times  myself." 

"Then  they  must  be  able  to  fly  as  well  as  see  in  the  air." 

"  You  may  say  about  it  what  you  will  please,  but  that  is 
what  I  know — that  is  what  I  know  ferry  well  myself." 

"And  I  should  th'nk  there  were  not  many  people  in  the 
country  who  knew  more  about  salmon  than  you,"  said  Frank 
Lavender.  "  And  I  hear,  too,  that  your  daughter  is  a  great 
fisher." 

But  this  was  a  blunder.  The  old  man  frowned  ;  "  Who 
will  tell  you  such  nonsense  ?  Sheila  has  gone  out  many  times 
with  Duncan,  and  he  will  put  a  rod  in  her  hand  ;  yes,  and 
she  will  have  caught  a  fish  or  two,  but  it  iss  not  a  story  to 
tell.  My  daughter  she  will  b.ave  plenty  to  do  about  the  house 
without  any  of  such  nonsense.  You  will  expect  to  find  us  all 
savages,  with  such  stories  of  nonsense." 

"  I  am  sure  not,"  said  Lavender,  warmly.  "  I  have  been 
very  much  struck  with  the  civilization  of  the  island,  so  far  as 
I  have  seen  it ;  and  I  can  assure  you  I  have  always  heard  of 
Miss  Sheila  as  a  singularly  accomplished  young  lady." 

"Yes,"  said  Mackenzie,  somewhat  mollified,  "Sheila  has 
been  well  brought  up  ;  she  is  not  a  fisherman's  lass,  running 
about  wild  and  catching  the  salmon.  I  cannot  listen  to  such 
nonsense,  and  it  i:S  Duncan  will  tell  it." 

"  I  can  assure  you,  no.  1  have  never  spoken  to  Duncan. 
The  fact  is,  Ingram  mentioned  that  your  daughter  had  caught 
a  salmon  or  two — as  a  tribute  to  her  skill,  you  know." 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  fl5 

"Oh,  I  know  it  wass  Duncan,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  a 
deeper  frown  coming  over  his  face.  "  1  will  hef  some  means 
taken  to  stop  Duncan  from  talking  such  nonsense." 

The  young  man  knowing  nothing  as  yet  of  the  childlike 
obedience  paid  to  the  King  of  Borva  by  his  islanders, 
thought  to  himself,  •' Well,  you  are  a  strong  and  self-wiiled 
old  gentleman,  but  if  I  were  you  I  should  not  meddle  much 
with  that  tall  keeper  with  the  eagle  beak  and  the  gray  eyes. 
I  should  not  like  to  be  a  stag,  and  know  that  fellow  was 
watching  me  somewhere  with  a  rifle  in  his  hands." 

At  length  they  came  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking 
Gara-na-hina*  and  the  panorama  of  the  western  lochs  and 
mountains.  Down  there  on  the  side  of  the  hill  was  the  small 
inn,  with  its  little  patch  of  garden;  then  a  few  moist  mead- 
ows leading  over  to  the  estuary  of  the  Black  river;  and  be- 
yond that  an  illimitable  prospect  of  heathy  undulations  rising 
into  the  mighty  peaks  of  Cracabhal,  Mealasabhal  and  Suaina- 
bhal.  Then  on  the  right,  leading  away  to  the  as  yet  invisi- 
ble Atlantic,  lay  the  blue  plain  of  Loch  Roag,  with  a  margin 
of  yellow  seaweed  along  its  shores,  where  the  rocks  revealed 
them:elves  at  low  water,  and  with  a  multitude  of  large,  varie- 
gated and  verdant  islands  which  hid  from  sight  the  still 
greater  Borva  beyond. 

They  stopped  to  have  a  glass  of  whisky  at  Gara-na-hina, 
and  Mackenzie  got  down  from  the  wagonette  and  went  into 
the  inn. 

"And  this  is  a  Highland  loch  !  "  said  Lavender,  turning  to 
his  companion  from  ihe  South.  '-It  is  an  enchanted  sea; 
you  could  fancy  yourself  in  the  Pacific,  if  only  there  were 
some  palm  trees  on  the  shores  of  the  islands.  No  wonder 
you  took  for  an  Eve  any  sort  of  woman  you  met  in  such  a 
paradise! '' 

"You  seem  to  be  thinking  a  good  deal  about  that  young 
lady." 

"Well,  who  would  not  wish  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a 
pretty  girl,  especially  when  you  have  plenty  of  time  on  your 
hands,  and  nothing  to  do  but  pay  her  little  attentions,  you 
know,  and  so  forth,  as  being  the  daughter  of  your  host  ?  " 

There  was  no  particular  answer  to  such  an  incoherent 
question,  but  Ingram  did  not  seem  so  well  pleased  as  he  had 


♦Literally,  "  Gearaidh-na'k-Airahne,"  the  cutting  of  the  rivei. 


26  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

been  with  the  prospect  of  introducing  his  friend  to  the  young 
Highland  girl  whose  praises  he  had  been  reciting  for  many  a 
day. 

However,  they  drank  their  whisky,  drove  on  to  Callernish, 
and  here  paused  for  a  minute  or  two  to  show  the  stranger  a 
series  of  large  so-called  Druidical  stones  which  occupy  a 
small  station  overlooking  the  loch.  Could  anything  have 
been  more  impressive  than  the  sight  of  these  solitary  gray 
pillars  phced  on  this  bit  of  table-land  high  over  the  sea,  and 
telling  of  a  race  that  vanished  ages  ago,  and  left  the  surround- 
ing plains,  and  hills,  and  shores  a  wild  and  untenanted  soli- 
tude? Bat,  somehow  Lavender  did  not  care  to  remain 
among  those  voiceless  monuments  of  a  forgotten  past.  He 
said  he  would  come  and  sketch  them  some  other  day.  He 
praised  the  picture  all  around,  and  then  came  back  to  tlie 
stretch  of  ruffled  blue  water  lying  at  the  base  of  the  hill. 
"  Where  was  Mr.  Mackenzie's  boat  ?  "  he  asked. 

They  left  the  high  plain,  with  its  Tuirsachan,*  or  Stones 
of  Mourning,  and  descended  to  the  side  of  the  loch.  In  a 
few  moments,  Duncan,  who  had  been  disposing  of  the  horses 
and  the  wagonette,  overtook  them,  got  ready  the  boat,  and 
presently  they  were  cutting  asunder  the  bright  blue  plain  of 
summer  waves. 

At  last  they  were  nearing  the  King  of  Borva's  home,  and 
Ingram  began  to  study  the  appearance  of  the  neighboring 
shores,  as  if  he  would  pick  out  some  feature  of  the  island  he 
remembered.  The  white  foam  hissed  down  the  side  of  the 
open  boat.  The  sun  burned  hot  on  the  brown  sail.  Far  away 
over  the  shining  plain  the  salmon  were  leaping  into  the  air, 
catching  a  quick  glint  of  silver  on  their  scales  before  they 
splashed  again  into  the  water.  Half  a  dozen  sea-pyes,  with 
their  beautiful  black  and  white  plumage  and  scarlet  beaks 
and  feet,  flew  screaming  out  from  the  rocks  and  swept  in 
rapid  circles  above  the  boat.  A  long  flight  of  sulan  geesa 
could  just  be  seen  slowly  sailing  along  the  westward  horizon. 
As  the  small  craft  got  out  toward  the  sea  the  breeze  freshened 
slightly,  and  she  lay  over  somewhat  as  the  brine-laden  winds 
caught  her  and  tingled  on  the  cheeks  of  \\tx  passengers  from 
the  softer  South.     Finally,  as  the  great  channel  widened  out, 

♦Another  name  given  by  the  islanders  to  these  stones,  is  "  Fir-bhreige,"  false  men. 
Both  names,  False  Alen  and  the  Mourners,  should  be  of  some  interest  to  antiquarians, 
for  they  will  suit  pretty  nearly  any  theory. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  27 

and  the  various  smaller  islands  disappeared  behind,  Ingram 
touched  his  companion  on  the  shoulder,  looked  over  lo  a 
long  and  Inv  line  of  rock  and  hill,  ynd  siid,  "  Borva!" 

An  1  ihis  was  B  )rva! — nothing  visible  but  an  indefinite  ex- 
tent of  rocky  shore,  with  here  and  tnere  a  bay  of  white  sand, 
and  over  that  a  table-land  of  green  pasture,  apparently  unin- 
habited. 

"  There  are  not  many  people  on  the  island,"  said  Laven- 
der, who  seemed  rather  disappointed  with  the  look  of  the 
place, 

"  There  a-e  three  hundred,"  said  Mackenzie  with  the  air 
of  one  who  had  experienced  the  difficulties  of  ruling  over 
three  hundred  islanders. 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  his  attention  was  called  by 
Duncan  to  some  object  that  the  gillie  had  been  regarding  for 
some  minutes  back. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Miss  Sheila,"  said  Duncan. 

A  sort  of  flush  of  expectation  passed  over  Lavender's  face, 
and  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  Ingram  laughed.  Did  the  fooli.-h 
youth  fancy  he  could  see  half  as  far  as  this  gray-eyed,  eagle- 
faced  man,  who  had  now  sunk  into  his  accustomed  seat  by 
the  mast?  Tnere  was  nothing  visible  to  ordinary  eyes  but  a 
speck  of  a  boat,  with  a  single  sail  up,  which  was,  apparently, 
in  the  distance,  running  in  for  Borva. 

"Ay,  ay,  ay,"  said  Mackenzie  in  a  vexed  way,  "it  is  Sheila, 
true  enough;  and  what  will  she  do  out  in  the  boat  at  this 
time,  when  she  wass  to  be  at  home  lo  receive  the  gentlemen 
that  hef  come  all  the  way  from  London  ?" 

*' Well,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  said  Lavender,  "I  should  be 
sorry  to  think  that  our  coming  had  interfered  in  any  way 
whatever  with  your  daughter's  amusements." 

"Amusements!"  said  the  old  man  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
"It  iss  not  amusements  she  will  go  for;  that  is  no  amuse- 
ments for  her.  It  is  for  some  teiifle  of  a  purpose  she  will  go, 
when  it  iss  the  house  that  is  the  proper  place  for  her,  with 
friends  coming  from  so  great  a  journey." 

Presently  it  became  clear  tnat  a  race  between  the  two 
boats  was  inevitable,  both  of  them  making  for  the  same  point. 
Mackenzie  would  take  no  notice  of  such  a  thing,  but  there 
was  a  grave  smile  on  Duncan's  face,  and  something  like  a 
look  of  pride  in  his  keen  eyes. 

"There  iss  no  one,  not  one,"  he  said,  almost  to  himself. 


28  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

"will  take  her  in  better  that  Miss  Sheila — not  one  in  ta 
island.  And  it  wass  me  tat  learnt  her  every  bit  o'  ta  steering 
about  Borva." 

The  strangers  could  now  make  out  that  in  the  other  boat 
there  were  two  girls — one  seated  in  the  stern,  the  other  by 
the  mast.  Ingram  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  waved  it: 
a  similar  token  of  recognition  was  floated  out  from  the  other 
vessel.  But  Mackenzie's  boat  presently  had  the  better  of  the 
wind,  and  slowly  drew  on  ahead,  until,  when  her  passengers 
landed  on  the  rude  stone  quay,  they  found  the  other  and 
smaller  craft  still  some  little  distance  off. 

Lavender  paid  little  attention  to  his  luggage.  He  let  Dun- 
can do  with  it  what  he  liked.  He  was  watching  the  small 
boat  coming  in,  and  getting  a  little  impatient,  and  perhaps  a 
little  nervous,  in  waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  the  young  lady  in 
the  stern.  He  could  vaguely  make  out  that  she  had  an  abun- 
dance of  dark  hair  looped  up;  that  she  wore  a  small  straw  hat 
with  a  short  white  feather  in  it*  and  that,  for  the  rest,  she 
seemed  to  be  habited  entirely  in  some  rough  and  close-fitting 
cobtume  of  dark  blue.  Or  was  there  a  glimmer  of  a  band  of 
rose-red  around  her  neck  ? 

The  small  boat  was  cleverly  run  alongside  the  jetty:  Dun- 
caa  caught  her  bow  and  held  her  fast,  and  Miss  Sheila,  with 
a  heavy  string  of  lythe  in  her  right  hand,  stepped,  laughing 
and  blushing,  on  to  the  quay.  Ingram  was  there.  She 
dropped  the  fish  on  the  stones  and  took  his  two  hands  in  hers, 
and  without  uttering  a  word,  looked  a  glad  welcome  into  his 
Uce.  it  was  a  face  capable  of  saying  unwritten  things — fine 
and  delicate  in  form,  and  yet  full  of  an  abundance  of  health 
and  good  spirits  that  shone  in  deep  gray-blue  eyes.  Laven- 
der's first  emotion  was  one  of  surprise  that  he  should  have 
heard  this  handsome,  well-knit  and  proud-featured  girl  called 
"little  Sheila,''  and  spoken  of  in  a  pretty  and  caressing  way. 
He  thought  there  was  something  almo  t  majestic  in  her  figure, 
in  the  poising  of  her  head  and  the  outline  of  her  face.  But 
presently  he  began  to  perceive  some  singular  suggestions  of 
sensitiveness  and  meekness  in  the  low,  sweet  brow,  in  the 
short  and  exquisitely  curved  upper  lip,  and  in  the  look  of  the 
tender  blue  eyes,  which  had  long,  black  eyelashes  to  give 
them  a  peculiar  and  indefinable  charm.  All  this  he  noticed 
hastily  and  timidly  as  he  heard  Ingram,  who  still  held  the 
girl's  hands  in  his,  saying,  *•  Well,  Sheila,  and  you  haven't 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  2^ 

quite  forgotten  me  ?  And  you  are  grown  such  a  woman  now: 
why,  I  musn't  call  you  Sheila  any  more,  I  think.  But  let 
me  introduce  you  to  my  friend,  who  has  come  all  the  way 
from  London  to  see  all  the  wonderful  things  at  Borva." 

If  there  was  any  embarrassment  or  blushing  during  that 
simple  ceremony  it  was  not  on  the  side  of  the  Highland  girl, 
for  she  frankly  shook  hands  with  him  and  said,  "  Are  you 
very  well?" 

The  second  impression  which  Lavender  gathered  from  her 
was,  that  nowhere  in  the  world  was  English  pronounced  so 
beautifully  as  in  the  Island  of  Lewis.  The  gentle  intonation 
with  which  she  spoke  was  so  tender  and  touchirg — the  slight 
dwelling  on  the  <?  in  "very"  and  "well"  seemed  to  have 
such  a  sound  of  sincerity  about  it  that  he  could  have  fancied 
he  had  been  a  friend  of  htrs  for  a  lifetime.  And  if  she  said 
"ferry"  for  "very,"  what  then?  It  was  the  most  beautiful 
English  he  had  ever  heard. 

The  party  now  moved  off  toward  the  shore,  above  the  long 
white  curve  of  which  Mackenzie's  house  was  visible.  The 
old  man  himself  led  the  way,  and  had,  by  his  silence,  appar- 
ently not  quite  forgiven  his  daughter  for  having  been  absent 
from  home  when  his  guests  arrived. 

"  Now,  Sheila,"  said  Ingram,  "  tell  me  all  about  yourself; 
what  have  you  been  doing  ?" 

"This  morning?"  said  the  girl,  walking  beside  him,  with 
her  hand  laid  on  his  arm,  and  with  the  happiest  look  on  her 
face. 

"This  morning,  to  begin  with.  Did  you  catch  those  fish 
yourself  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  there  was  no  time  for  that.  And  it  was  Mairi 
and  I  saw  a  boat  coming  in,  and  it  was  going  to  Mevaig, 
but  we  overtook  it,  and  got  some  of  the  fish,  and  we  thought 
we  should  be  back  before  you  came.  However,  it  is  no  mat- 
ter since  you  are  here.  And  you  have  been  very  well!  And 
did  you  see  any  differences  in  Stornoway  when  you  came 
over?' 

Lavender  began  to  think  that  Styornoway  sounded  ever  so 
much  more  pleasant  than  mere  Stornoway. 

"  We  had  not  a  minute  to  wait  in  Scor noway.  But  tell 
me,  Sheila,  all  about  Borva  and  yourself;  that  is  better  than 
Stornoway.  How  are  your  schools  getting  on  ?  And  have 
you  bribed  or   frightened  all  the  children   into  giving  u{) 


3° 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


Gaelic  yet?  How  is  John  the  Piper?  and  does  the  Free 
Church  minister  still  complain  of  him?  And  have  you 
caught  anymore  wild  ducks  and  tamed  them?  And  are 
there  any  gray  geese  up  at  Lochan-Eilean  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  many  at  once,"  said  Sheila,  laughing. 
"But  I  am  afraid  your  friend  will  find  Borva  very  ioneiy 
and  dull.  There  is  not  much  there  at  all,  for  all  the  lads  are 
away  at  the  Caithness  fishing.  And  you  should  have  shown 
him  all  about  Stornoway,  and  taken  him  up  to  the  castle  and 
the  beautiful  gardens." 

"He  has  seen  all  sorts  of  castles.  Sheila,  and  all  sorts  of 
gardens  in  every  part  of  the  world.  He  has  seen  everything 
to  be  seen  in  the  great  cities  and  countries  that  are  only 
names  to  you.  He  has  traveled  in  France,  Italy,  Russia, 
Germany,  and  seen  all  the  big  towns  that  you  hear  of  in  his- 
tory." 

"  That  is  what  I  should  like  to  do  if  I  were  a  man,''  said 
Sheila  ;  "  and  many  and  many  a  time  I  wished  I  had  been  a 
man,  that  I  could  go  to  the  fishing  and  work  in  the  fields, 
and,  then,  when  I  had  enough  money,  go  away  and  see  other 
countries  and  strange  people." 

"  But  if  you  were  a  man  I  should  not  have  come  all  the 
way  from  London  to  see  you,"  said  Ingram,  patting  the  hand 
that  lay  on  his  arm. 

"But  if  I  were  a  man,"  said  the  girl,  quite  frankly,  "I 
should  go  up  to  London  to  see  you." 

Mackenzie  smiled  grimly,  and  said,  "Sheila,  it  is  nonsense 
you  will  talk." 

At  this  moment  Sheila  turned  around  and  said,  "  Oh,  we 
have  forgotten  poor  Mairi.  Mairi;  why  did  you  not  leave  the 
fish  for  Duncan  ?  They  are  too  heavy  for  you.  I  will  carry 
them  to  the  house.'' 

But  Lavender  sprang  forward,  and  insisted  on  taking  pos- 
session of  the  thick  cord  with  its  considerable  weight  of 
lythe. 

"This  is  my  cousin,  Mairi,"  said  Sheila  ;  and  forthwith  the 
young,  fair-faced,  timid-eyed  girl  shook  hands  with  the  gentle- 
men, and  said,  just  as  if  she  had  been  watching  Sheila, 
"And  are  you  ferry  well,  sir?" 

For  the  rest  of  the  way  up  to  the  house  Lavender  walked 
by  the  side  of  Sheila  ;  and  as  the  string  of  lythe  had  formed 
the  introduction  to  their  talk,  it  ran  pretty  much  upon  natural 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  3 1 

history.  In  about  five  minutes  she  had  told  him  more  about 
sea-birds  and  fish  than  ever  he  knew  in  his  life  ;  and  she 
wound  up  this  information  by  offering  to  take  him  out  on 
the  following  morning,  that  he  might  himself  catch  some  lythe. 

"  But  I  am  a  wretchedly  bad  fisherman,  Miss  Mackenzie," 
he  said.     "  It  is  some  years  since  I  tried  to  th'ow  a  fly." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  need  for  good  fishing  when  you  catch 
lythe,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  You  will  see  Mr.  Ingram  catch 
them.  It  is  only  a  big  white  fly  you  will  need,  and  a  long 
line,  and  when  the  fibh  takes  the  fly,  down  he  goes — a  great 
depth.  Then  when  you  have  got  him  and  he  is  killed,  you 
must  cut  the  sides,  as  you  see  that  is  done,  and  string  him 
to  a  rope  and  trail  him  behind  the  boat  all  the  way  home. 
If  you  do  not  do  that  it  is  no  use  at  all  to  eat.  But  if  you 
like  the  salmon-fishing  my  papa  will  teach  you  that.  There 
is  no  one,"  she  added  proudly,  "  can  catch  salmon  like  my 
papa — not  even  Duncan — and  the  gentlemen  who  come  in 
the  autumn  to  Stornoway,  they  are  quite  surprised  when  my 
papa  goes  to  fish  with  them." 

**  I  suppose  he  is  a  good  shot,  too,"  said  the  young  man, 
amused  to  notice  the  proud  way  in  which  the  girl  spoke  of 
her  father. 

"  Oh,  he  can  shoot  anything.  He  will  shoot  a  seal  if  he 
comes  up  but  for  one  moment  above  the  water;  and  all  the 
birds — he  will  get  you  all  the  birds  if  you  will  wish  to  take 
any  away  with  you.  We  have  no  deer  on  the  island — it  is 
too  small  for  that — but  in  the  Lewis  and  in  Harris  there  are 
many,  many  thousands  of  deer,  and  my  papa  has  many  in- 
vitations when  the  gentlemen  come  up  in  the  autumn;  and 
if  you  look  in  the  game-book  of  the  lodges  you  will  see  there 
is  not  any  one  who  has  shot  so  many  deer  as  my  papa — not 
any  one  whatever." 

At  length  they  reached  the  building  of  dark  and  rude 
stone-work,  with  its  red  coping,  its  spacious  porch,  and  its 
small  enclosure  of  garden  in  front.  Lavender  praised  the 
flowers  in  this  enclosure;  he  guessed  they  were  Sheila's  par- 
ticular care;  but  in  truth  there  was  nothing  rare  or  delicate 
among  the  plants  growing  in  this  exposed  situation.  There 
were  a  few  clusters  of  large  yellow  pansies,  a  calceolaria  or  two, 
plenty  of  wallflower,  some  clove-pinks,  and  an  abundance  of 
sweet-william  in  all  manner  of  colors.  But  the  chief  beauty 
of  the  small  garden  was  a    magnificent   tree-fuchsia  which 


-«  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

grew  in  front  of  one  of  the  windows,  and  was  covered  with 
deeo  rose-red  flowers  set  amid  its  small  and  deep-green 
leave.  For  the  rest,  a  bit  of  honeysuckle  was  turned  up  one 
stdlof  the  porch,  and  at  the  small  wooden  gate  there  were 
two  bushes  of  sw^etbrier  that  filled   the  warm  a,r  wiih    fra- 

^^  Just  before  entering  the  house  the  two  strangers  turned  to 
JT.  look  at  the  spfcious  landscape  jY-g  ^  ^-^m  ?he  e 
perfect  calm  of  a  Summer  day.     And  lo  !  before  them  there 
was  but  a  blinding  mass  of  white  that  glared  upon  their  eyes, 
Tnd  caused  themfo  see  the  far  sea  and  the  shores  and  Mis  a^ 
but  faint  shadows  appearing  through  a  silvery  haze     A  th^^^^ 
fleece  of  cloud  lay  across  the  sun,  but  the  light  wa.  neverthe 
fessL  intense  tha't  the  objects  near  at  j^-d-a  disused  boat 
lying  bottom  upward,  an  immense  anchor  of  foreign  inake, 
a^dsome  such  things-seemed  to  be  as   black  as  night  as 
thev  W  on  the  warm  road.     But  when  the  eye  gpt  beyond 
the   house  and  the  garden,  and  the  rough  hdlside  leading 
down  to  Loch  Rnag,  all  the  world  appeared  to  be  a^bkzeo 
calm,  silent  and  luminous  heat.     Suamabhal  and  its  brother 
mountains  were  only  as  clouds  in  the  south.    Along  the  we.t- 
Trn  horizon  the  porlion  of  the  Atlantic  that  could   be  seen 
fay  1  ke  a  silent  lake  under  a  white  sky.     To  get  any   touch 
of  color  they  had  to  turn  eastward,  and  there   the   sunl.gnt 
?ainay  fell  on  the  green  shores  of  Borva,  on  t^e -r-ws^^ 
Loch  Roa-,  and  the  loo^e  red  sail  of  a  solitary  smack  that 
was  slowl/coming  round  a  headland.     They  could  hear    he 
Toundoflhe  long  oars.     A  pale  IJne  of  shadow    ay   m    he 
wake  of  the  boat,  but  otherwise  the  black  hull  and  the  red 
rlLemed  to  be  coming  through  a  plain  of  -ohen   silve  . 
When  the  young  men  turned  to  go  into  the  house  the  hall 
seemed  a  cavern  of  impenetrable  darkness,  and  there  was   a 
flush  of  crimson  light  dancing  bef.  re  their  eyes. 

When  Ingram  had  his  room  pointed  out  Lavender  followed 
him  into  it  and  shut  the  door.  . 

''By  Tove,  Ingram,"  he  said,  with  a  singular  hght  of  en- 
thusiasm on  his  handsome  face,  -what  a  beautiful  voice  that 
girl  has  '  I  have  never  heard  anything  so  soft  and  musical  .n 
all  my  life,  and  then  when  she  smiles  what  perfect  teeth  she 
has  I  And  llun,  you  know,  there  is  an  appearance  a  style, 
a  grace  about  her  figure-but,  I  say,  do  you  seriously  mean 
to  tell  me  i'ou  are  not  in  love  with  heri' 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  33 

"  Of  course  I  am  not,"  said  the  other,  impatiently,  as  he 
was  busily  engaged  with  his  portmanteau. 

"Then  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  information,"  said  the 
young  man,  with  an  air  of  profound  shrewdness;  "  she  is  in 
love  with  you." 

Ingram  rose  with  some  little  touch  of  vexation  on  his  face; 
"  Look  here,  Lavender,  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you  seriously. 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  fancy  that  every  one  is  in  that  condition 
of  simmering  love-making  you  delight  in.  Vou  never  were  in 
love,  I  beheve — I  doubt  whether  you  ever  will  be — but 
you  are  always  fancying  yourself  in  love,  and  writing 
^ery  pretty  veises  about  it  and  painting  very  pretty 
heads.  I  like  the  verses  and  the  paintings  well  enough, 
however  they  are  come  by;  but  don't  mislead  yourself  into 
believing  that  you  know  an}  thing  whatever  of  a  real  or  serious 
passion  by  having  engaged  in  all  sorts  of  imaginative  and 
semi-poetical  dreams.  It  is  a  much  more  serious  thing  than 
that,  mind  you,  when  it  comes  to  a  man.  And,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  don't  attribute  any  of  that  sort  of  sentimental  make- 
believe  to  either  Sheila  Mackenzie  or  myself.  We  are  not 
romantic  folks.  We  have  no  imaginative  gifts  whatever,  but 
we  are  very  glad,  you  know,  to  be  attentive  and  grateful  to 
those  who  have.     The  fact  is,  I  don't  think  it  quite  fair — " 

"  Let  us  suppose  I  am  lectured  enough,"  said  the  other, 
somewhat  stiffly.  '•  I  suppose  I  am  as  gcod  a  judge  of  the 
character  of  women  as  most  other  men,  although  I  am  no 
great  student,  and  have  no  hard  and  dried  rules  of  philoso- 
phy at  my  fingers'  ends.  Perhaps,  however,  one  may  learn 
more  by  mixing  with  other  people  and  going  cut  into  the 
world,  than  by  sitting  in  a  room  with  a  dozen  of  bocks,  and 
persuading  one's  self  that  men  and  women  are  to  be  studied  in 
that  fashion." 

"  Go  away,  you  stupid  boy,  and  unpack  your  portmanteau, 
and  don't  quarrel  with  me,"  said  Ingram,  putting  out  on  the 
table  some  things  he  had  brought  fur  Sheila;  "and  if  you  are 
friendly  with  Sheila  and  treat  her  like  a  human  being,  instead 
of  trying  to  put  a  lot  of  romance  and  sentiment  about  her, 
she  will  teach  you  more  than  you  could  learn  in  a  hundred 
drawing-rooms  in  a  thousand  years." 


34 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THERE   WAS    A    KING   IN   THULE. 

He  never  took  that  advice.  He  had  already  transformed 
Sheila  into  a  heroine  during  the  half  hour  of  their  stroll  from 
the  beach  and  around  the  house.  Not  that  he  fell  in  love 
with  her  at  first  sight,  or  anything  even  approaching  to  that. 
He  merely  made  her  the  central  figure  of  a  little  speculative 
romance,  as  he  had  made  many  another  woman  before.  Of 
course,  in  these  little  fanciful  dramas,  written  along  the  sky- 
line, as  it  were,  of  his  life,  he  invariably  pictured  himself  as 
the  fitting  companion  of  the  fair  creatures  he  saw  there.  Who 
but  himself  could  understand  the  sentiment  of  her  eyes,  and 
teach  her  little  love-ways,  and  express  unbounded  admiration 
of  her?  More  than  one  practical  young  woman,  indeed,  in 
certain  circles  of  London  society,  had  been  informed  by  her 
friends  that  Mr.  Lavender  was  dreadfully  in  love  with  her; 
and  had  been  much  surprised,  after  this  confirmation  of  her 
suspicions,  that  he  sought  no  means  of  bringing  the  affair  to 
a  reasonable  and  sensible  issue.  He  did  not  even  amuse  hin»- 
self  by  flirting  with  her,  as  men  would  willingly  do  who  could 
not  be  charged  with  any  serious  purpose  whatever. 

His  devotion  was  more  mysterious  and  remote.  A  rumor 
would  get  about  that  Mr.  Lavender  had  finished  another  of 
those  charming  heads  in  pastel,  which,  at  a  distance,  re- 
minded one  of  Greuze,  and  that  Lady  So-and-so,  who  had 
bought  it  forthwith,  had  declared  that  it  was  the  image  ot 
this  young  lady,  who  was  partly  puzzled  and  partly  vexed  by 
the  incomprehensible  conduct  of  her  reputed  admirer.  It 
was  the  fashion,  in  these  social  circles,  to  buy  those  heads  of 
Lavender  when  he  chose  to  paint  them.  He  had  achieved 
a  great  reputation  by  them.  The  good  people  liked  to  have 
genius  in  their  own  set  whom  they  had  discovered,  and  who 
was  only  to  be  appreciated  by  persons  of  exceptional  taste 
and  penetration.  Lavender,  the  uninitiated  were  assured, 
was  a  most  brilliant  and  cultivated  young  man.  He  had 
composed  some  charming  songs,  he  had  written,  from  time 
to  time,  some  quite  delightful  little  poems,  over  which  fair 
eyes  had  grown  full  and  liquid.       Who  had  not  heard  of 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  35 

the  face  that  he  painted  for  a  certain  young   lady  whom 
every  one  expected  him  to  marry  ? 

The  young  man  escaped  a  great  deal  of  the  ordinary  con- 
sequences of  this  petting,  but  not  all.  He  was  at  bottom 
really  true-hearted,  frank  and  generous — generous  even  to  an 
extreme — but  he  had  a  habit  of  producing  striking  impres- 
sions which  dogged  and  perverted  his  every  action  and  speech. 
He  di  liked  losing  a  few  shillings  at  billiards,  but  he  did  not 
mind  losing  a  few  pounds  ;  the  latter  was  good  for  a  story. 
Had  he  possessed  any  money  to  invest  in  shares,  he  would 
have  been  irritated  by  small  rises  or  small  falls  ;  but  he  would 
have  been  vain  of  a  big  rise,  and  he  would  have  regarded  a 
big  fall  with  equanimity,  as  placing  him  in  a  dramatic  light. 
The  exaggerations  produced  by  this  habit  of  his  fostered 
strange  delusions  in  the  minds  ot  people  who  did  not  know 
him  very  well  :  and  sometimes  the  practical  results,  in  the 
way  of  expected  charities  or  what  not,  amazed  him.  He 
could  not  understand  why  people  should  have  made  such 
mistakes,  and  resented  them  as  an  injustice. 

And  as  they  sat  at  dinner  on  this  still,  brilliant  evening  in 
Summer,  it  was  Sheila's  turn  to  be  clothed  in  the  garments  of 
romance.  Her  father,  with  his  great  gray  begird  and  heavy 
brow,  became  the  King  of  Thule,  living  in  this  solitary  house 
overlooking  the  sea,  and  having  memories  of  a  dead  sweet- 
heart. His  daughter,  the  princess,  had  the  glamor  of  a  thou- 
sand legends  dwelling  in  her  beautiful  eyes;  and  when  she 
walked  by  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  that  were  now  getting 
yellow  under  the  sunset,  what  strange  and  unutterable 
thoughts  must  appear  in  the  wonder  of  her  face!  He  remem- 
bered no  m.ore  how  he  had  pulled  to  pieces  Ingram's  praises 
of  Sheila.  What  had  become  of  the  "  ordinary  young  lady, 
who  would  be  a  little  interesting,  if  a  little  stupid,  before  mar- 
riage, and  after  marriage  sink  into  the  dull,  domestic  hind?" 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  She  la  often  sat  silent  for  a 
considerable  time,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  father's  face 
when  he  spoke,  or  turning  to  look  at  some  other  speaker. 
Had  Lavender  now  been  asked  if  this  silence  had  not  a  trifle 
of  dullness  in  it,  he  would  have  replied  by  asking  if  there 
were  dullness  in  the  stillness  and  the  silence  of  the  sea.  He 
grew  to  regard  her  calm  and  thoughtful  look  as  a  sort  of  spell; 
and  if  you  had  asked  him  what  Sheila  was  like,  he  would 
have  answered  by  saying  that  there  was  moonlight  in  her  face. 


,6  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

The  room,  too,  in  which  this  mystic  princess  sat,  was 
strange  and  wonderful.  There  were  no  doors  visible,  for  the 
four  walls  were  throughout  covered  by  paper  of  foreign 
manufacture,  representing  spacious  Tyrolese  landscapes  and 
incidents  of  the  chase.  When  Lavender  had  first  entered 
this  chamber  his  eye  had  been  shocked  by  these  coarse  and 
prominent  pictures— by  the  green  rivers,  the  blue  lakes  and 
the  snow-peaks  that  rose  above  certain  ruddy  chalets.  Here 
a  chamois  was  stumbling  down  a  ravine,  and  there  an  oper- 
atic peasant  some  tight  or  ten  inches  in  actual  length,  was 
pointing  a  gun.  The  large  figures,  the  coarse  colors,  the 
impossible  scenes— all  this  looked,  at  first  sight,  to  be  in  the 
worst  possible  taste,  and  Lavender  was  convinced  that  Sheila 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  introduction  of  this  abominable 
decoration.  But  somehow,  when  he  turned  to  the  line  of 
ocean  that  was  visible  from  the  window,  to  the  lonely  shores 
of  the  island  and  the  monotony  of  colors  showing  in  the  still 
picture  without,  he  began  to  fancy  that  there  might  be  a 
craving  up  in  these  Utitudes  f  jr  some  presentation,  however 
rude  and  glaring,  of  the  richer  and  more  variegated  life  of 
the  South.  The  figures  and  mountains  on  the  walls  became 
less  prominent.  He  saw  no  incongruity  in  a  whole  chalet 
giving  way  and  allowing  Duncan,  who  Vv^aited  at  table, 
to  bring  from  this  aperture  to  the  kitchen  a  steaming  dish  of 
sahnon,  while  he  spoke  some  words  in  Gaelic  to  the  servants 
at  the  other  end  of  the  tube.  He  even  forgot  to  be  surprised 
at  the  appearance  of  little  Mairi,  with  whom  he  had  shaken 
hands  a  Uttie  while  before,  coming  round  the  table  with 
potatoes.  He  did  not,  as  a  rule,  shake  hands  with  servant- 
maids,  but  was  not  this  fair-haired,  wistful-eyed  girl  some 
relative,  friend  or  companion  of  Sheila's,  and  had  he  not  al- 
ready begun  to  lose  all  perception  of  the  incongruous  or  the 
absurd  in  the  strange  pervading  charm  with  which  Sheila's 
presence  filled  the  place? 

He  suddenly  found  Mackenzie's  deep-set  eyes  fixed  upon 
him,  and  became  a\vare  that  the  old  man  had  been  mysteri- 
ously announcing  to  Ingiam  that  there  were  more  political 
movements  abroad  than  people  fancied.  Sheila  sat  still  and 
listened  to  her  father  as  he  expounded  these  things,  and 
showed  that,  although  at  a  distance,  he  could  perceive  the 
signs  of  the  times.  Was  it  not  incumbent,  moreover,  on 
a  man  who  had  to  look  after  a  number  of  poor  people  and 
simple  folks,  that  he  should  be  on  the  alert  ? 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE,  37 

^' It  iss  not  bekass  you  will  live  in  London  you  will  know 
everything,"  said  the  King  of  Borva,  with  a  certain  signifi- 
cance in  his  tone.  "  There  iss  many  things  a  man  does  not 
see  at  his  feet  that  another  man  will  see  who  is  a  good  way 
off.     The  International,  now — " 

He  glanced  furtively  at  Lavender. 

" — I  hef  been  told  there  wiil  be  agents  going  out  every 
day  to  all  parts  of  this  country  and  other  countries,  and  they 
will  hef  plenty  of  money  to  live  like  gentlemen,  and  get 
among  the  poor  people,  and  fill  their  minds  with  foolish 
nonsense  about  a  revolution.  Oh  yes,  I  hear  about  it  all, 
and  there  iss  many  members  of  Parliament  in  it;  and  it  is 
every  day  they  will  get  farther  and  farther,  all  working  hard, 
though  no  one  sees  them  who  does  not  understand  to  be  on 
the  watch." 

Here  again  the  young  man  received  a  quiet,  scrutinizing 
glance;  and  it  began  to  dawn  upon  him,  to  his  infinite  as- 
tonishment, that  Mackenzie  half  suspected  h'.m  of  being  an 
emissary  of  the  International.  In  the  case  of  any  other 
man  he  would  have  laughed  and  paid  no  heed,  but  how 
could  he  permit  Sheila's  father  to  regard  him  with  any  such 
suspicion  ? 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,"  he  said  boldly,  "  that  those  Inter- 
nationalists  are  a  lot  of  incorrigible  idiots?" 

As  if  a  shrewd  observer  of  men  and  motives  were  to  be 
deceived  by  such  a  protest!  Mackenzie  regarded  him  with 
increased  suspicion,  although  he  endeavored  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  he  was  watching  the  young  man  from  time  to  time. 
Lavender  sa'v  all  the  favor  he  had  won  during  the  day  dis- 
appearing, and  moodily  wondered  when  he  should  have  a 
chance  of  explanation. 

After  dinner  they  went  outside  and  sat  down  on  a  bench 
in  the  garden,  and  the  men  lit  their  cigars.  It  was  a  cool 
and  pleasant  evening.  The  sun  had  gone  down  in  the  red 
fire  behind  the  Atlantic,  and  there  was  still  leit  a  rich  glow 
of  crimson  in  the  West;  while  overhead,  in  the  pale  yellow 
of  the  sky,  some  filmy  clouds  of  rose-color  lay  motionless. 
How  calm  was  the  sea  out  there,  and  the  whiter  stretch  of 
water  coming  into  Loch  Roag!  The  cool  air  of  the  twilight 
was  scented  with  sweetbrier.  The  wash  of  the  ripples  along 
the  coast  could  be  heard  in  the  sliillness.  It  was  a  time  for 
lovers  to  sit  by  the  Lea,  careless  of  the  future  or  the  past. 


38  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

But  why  would  this  old  man  keep  prating  of  his  political 
prophecies?  Lavender  asked  of  himself.  Sheila  had  spoken 
scarcely  a  word  all  the  evening;  and  of  what  interest  could  it 
be  to  her  to  listen  to  theories  of  revolution  and  the  dangers 
besetting  our  hot-headed  youth  ?  She  merely  stood  by  the 
side  of  her  father,  whh  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He 
noticed,  however,  that  she  paid  particular  attention  whenever 
Ingram  spoke;  and  he  wondered  whether  she  perceived  that 
Ingram  Vv-as  partly  humoring  the  old  man,  at  the  same  time 
that  he  was  pleasinp-  himself  with  a  series  of  monologues,  in- 
terrupted only  by  his  cigar. 

<'  That  is  true  enough,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  Ingram  would  say^ 
laying  back  with  his  two  hands  clasped  around  his  knee,  as 
usual;  ''you've  got  to  be  careful  of  the  opinions  that  are 
spread  abroad,  even  in  B:-;va,  where  not  much  danger  is 
to  be  expected.  But  I  don't  suppose  our  young  men 
are  m.ore  destructive  in  their  notions  than  young  men 
always  have  been.  You  know  every  fellow  starts  in  life  by 
knocking  down  all  the  beliefs  he  finds  before  him,  and  then 
spends  the  rtst  of  his  life  m  setting  them  up  again.  It  is 
only  after  some  years  he  gets  to  know  that  all  the  wisdom  of 
the  world  lies  in  the  old  commonplaces  he  once  despised. 
He  finds  that  the  old  familiar  ways  are  the  best,  and  he 
sinks  into  being  a  commonplace  person,  with  much  satisfac- 
tion to  himself.  My  friend  Lavender,  now,  is  continually 
charging  me  with  being  commonplace  I  admit  the  charge. 
I  have  drifted  back  into  all  the  old  ways  and  beliefs — about 
religion  and  marriage,  and  patriotism,  and  what  not — that 
ten  years  ago  I  should  have  treated  with  ridicule." 

"  Suppose  the  process  continues  ?"  suggested  Lavender, 
with  some  evidence  of  pique. 

"  Suppose  it  does,"  continues  Ingram  carelessly.  "  Ten 
years  hence  I  may  be  proud  to  become  a  vestryman,  and 
have  the  most  anxious  care  about  the  administration  of  the 
rates.  I  shall  be  looking  after  the  drainage  of  houses  and 
the  treatment  of  paupers,  and  the  management  of  Sunday- 
schools — but  all  this  is  an  invasion  of  your  province,  Sheila,** 
he  suddenly  added,  looking  up  to  her. 

The  girl  laughed  and  said,  "  Then  I  have  been  common- 
place from  the  beginning  ?" 

Ingram  was  about  to  make  all  manner  of  protests  and 
iipologies,  when  Mackenzie  said,  "  Sheila,  it  wass  time  you 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  39 

go  in-doors,  if  you  have  nothing  about  your  head.  Go  in 
and  sing  a  song  to  us,  and  we  will  listen  to  you;  and  not  a 
sad  song,  but  a  good  merry  song.  These  teffles  of  the  fisher- 
men, it  iss  always  drownings  they  will  sing  about  from  the 
morning  till  the  night." 

Was  Sheila  about  to  sing  in  this  clear,  strange  twilight, 
vhile  they  sat  there  and  watched  the  yellow  moon  come  up 
/)ehind  the  Southern  hills?  Lavender  had  heard  so  much 
of  her  singing  of  these  fishermen's  ballads  that  he  could 
think  of  nothing  more  to  add  to  the  enchantment  of  this 
wonderful  night.  But  he  was  disappointed.  The  girl  put 
her  hand  on  her  father's  head,  and  reminded  him  that  she 
had  had  her  big  greyhound,  Bras,  imprisoned  all  the  after- 
noon, that  she  had  to  go  down  to  Borvapcst,  with  a  message 
for  some  people  who  were  leaving  by  the  boat  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  would  the  gentleman  therefore  excuse  her  not  sing- 
ing to  t^em  for  this  one  evening  ? 

"  But  you  cannot  go  away  down  to  Borvapost  by  yourself. 
Sheila,"  said  Ingram.     "It  will  be  dark  before  you  return." 
"  It  will  not  b<i  darker  than  this  all  the  night  through,''  said 
the  girl. 

"  But  I  hope  you  will  let  us  go  with  you,"  said  Lavender, 
rather  anxiously;  and  she  assented  with  a  gracious  smile,  and 
went  to  fetch  the  great  deerhound  that  was  her  constant 
companion. 

And  lo  1  he  found  himself  walking  with  a  princess  in  the 
wonderland  through  that  magic  twilight  that  prevails  in 
Northern  latitudes.  Mackenzie  and  Ingram  had  gone  on  in 
front.  The  large  deerhound,  after  regarding  him  attentively, 
had  gone  to  his  mistress'  side,  and  remained  closely  there. 
Lavender  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears  that  the  girl  was 
talking  to  him  lightly  and  frankly,  as  though  she  had  known 
him  for  years,  and  was  telling  him  of  all  her  troubles  with 
the  folks  at  the  Borvapost,  and  of  those  poor  people  whom 
she  was  now  going  to  see.  No  sooner  did  he  understand  that 
they  were  emigrants,  and  that  they  were  going  to  Glasgow 
before  leaving  finally  for  America,  than  in  quite  an  honest 
and  enthusiastic  fashion  he  began  to  bewail  the  sad  fate  of 
such  poor  wretches  as  have  to  forsake  their  native  land,  and 
to  accuse  the  aristocracy  of  the  country  of  every  act  of  self- 
ishness, and  to  charge  the  Government  of  shameful  indiffer- 
ence.    But  Sheila  brought  him  up  suddenly.     In  the  gentlest 


40  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

fashion  she  told  him  that  she  knew  of  these  poor  people,  and 
how  emigration  affected  them,  and  so  forth,  until  he  was 
ready  to  curse  the  hour  in  which  he  had  blundered  into 
taking  a  side  on  a  question  about  which  he  cared  nothing 
and  knew  less. 

"But  some  other  time,"  continued  Sheila,  "■  I  will  tell  you 
what  we  do  here,  and  I  will  show  you  a  great  many  letters 
I  have  from  friends  of  mine  who  have  gone  to  Greenock  and 
to  New  York  and  Canada.  Oh,  yes,  it  is  very  bad  for  the 
old  people;  they  never  get  reconciled  to  the  change — never; 
but  it  is  very  good  for  the  young  people,  and  they  are  glad 
of  it,  and  are  much  better  off  than  they  were  here.  You  will 
see  how  proud  they  are  of  the  becter  clothes  they  have,  and  of 
good  food,  and  of  money  to  put  in  the  bank:  and  how  could 
they  get  that  in  the  Highlands,  where  the  land  is  so  poor  that 
a  small  piece  is  no  use,  and  they  have  not  money  to  rent  the 
large  sheep  farms?  It  is  very  bad  to  have  people  go  away 
— it  is  very  hard  on  many  of  them — but  what  can  they  do  ? 
The  piece  of  ground  that  was  very  good  for  the  one  family, 
that  is  expected  to  keep  the  daughters  when  they  ma-ry,  and 
the  sons  when  they  marry,  and  then  there  are  five  or  six 
families  to  live  on  it.  And  hard  v/ork — that  will  not  do  much 
with  very  bad  land  and  the  bad  weather  we  have  here.  The 
people  get  downhearted  when  they  have  their  crops  spoiled 
by  the  long  rain,  and  they  cannot  get  their  peats  dried;  and 
very  often  the  fishing  turns  out  bad,  and  they  have  no  money 
at  all  to  carry  on  the  farm.     But  now  you  will  see  Borvapost." 

Lavender  had  to  confess  that  this  wonderful  princess  would 
persist  in  talking  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  way.  All  the  after- 
noon, while  he  was  weaving  a  luminous  web  of  imagination 
around  her,  she  was  continually  cutting  it  asunder,  and  step- 
ping forth  as  an  authority  on  the  growing  of  some  wretched 
plants  or  the  means  by  wiiich  rain  was  to  be  excluded  from 
window-siils.  And  now,  in  this  strange  twilight,  when  she 
ought  to  have  been  singing  of  the  cruelties  of  the  sea  or 
listening  to  half- forgotten  legends  of  mermaids,  she  was  en- 
gaged with  the  petty  fortunes  of  men  and  girls  who  were 
pleased  to  find  themselves  prospering  in  the  Glasgow  police 
force  or  educating  themselves  in  a  milliner's  shop  in  Edin- 
burgh. She  did  not  appear  conscious  that  she  was  a  prin- 
cess. Indeed,  she  seemed  to  have  no  consciousness  of  hersulf 
at  all,  and  was  altogether  occupied  in  giving  him  information 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  4 1 

about  practical  subjects  in  which  he  professed  a  profound 
interest  he  certainly  did  not  feel. 

But  even  Sheila,  when  they  had  reached  the  loftiest  part 
of  their  route,  and  could  see  beneath  them  the  island  and  the 
water  surrounding  it,  was  struck  by  the  exceeding  beauty  of 
the  twilight,  and  as  for  her  companion,  he  remembered  it 
many  a  time  thereafter  as  if  it  were  a  dream  of  the  sea. 
B.:fore  them  lay  the  Atlantic — a  pale  line  of  blue,  still,  silent 
and  remote.  Overhead,  the  sky  was  of  a  clear,  pale  gold, 
with  heavy  masses  of  violet  cloud  stretched  across  from 
North  to  South,  and  thickening  as  they  got  near  to  the 
horizon.  Down  at  their  feet,  near  the  shore,  a  dusky  line  of 
huts  and  houses  was  scarcely  visible,  and  over  these  lay  a 
pale  blue  film  of  peat-smoke  that  did  not  move  in  the  still 
air.  Then  they  saw  the  bay  into  which  the  White  Water 
runs,  and  they  could  trace  the  yellow  glimmer  of  the  river 
stretching  into  the  island  through  a  level  valley  of  bog  and 
morass.  Far  away,  toward  the  East,  lay  the  bulk  of  the 
island — dark  green  undulations  of  moorland  and  pasture; 
and  there,  in  the  darkness,  the  gable  of  one  white  house  had 
caught  the  clear  light  of  the  sky,  and  was  gleaming  Westward 
like  a  star.  But  all  this  wx5  as  nothing  to  the  glory  that 
began  to  shine  in  the  Southeast,  where  the  sky  was  of  a  pale 
violet  over  the  peaks  of  M;Lisabhal  and  Suainabhal.  There, 
into  the  beautiful  dome,  rose  the  golden  crescent  of  the  moon, 
warm  in  color,  as  though  it  still  retained  the  last  rays  of  the 
sunset.  A  line  of  quivering  gold  fell  across  Loch  Roag,  and 
touched  the  black  hull  and  spars  of  the  boat  in  v/hich  Sheila 
had  been  sailing  in  the  morning.  That  bay  down  there, 
with  its  white  sands  and  maisive  rocks,  its  still  expanse  of 
water  and  its  background  of  mountain  peaks  palely  colored 
by  the  yellow  moonlight,  seemed  really  a  home  for  a  magic 
princess  who  was  shut  off  from  all  the  world.  But  here,  in 
front  of  them,  was  another  sort  of  sea  and  anotlier  sort  of 
life  — a  small  fishing  village,  hidden  under  a  cloud  of  pale 
peat-smoke,  and  fronting  the  great  waters  of  the  Atlantic  it- 
self,  which  lay  under  a  gloom  of  violet  clouds. 

"Now,"  said  Sheila,  with  a  smile,  "we  have  not  always 
weather  as  good  as  this  in  the  island,  Will  you  not  sit  on 
the  bench  over  there  with  Mr.  Ingram,  and  wait  until  my 
papa  and  I  come  up  from  the  village  again  ?" 

"May  not  I  go  down  with  you?  ' 


42  A   PRINCESS  OF    THULE. 

"  No.  The  dogs  would  learn  you  were  a  stranger,  and 
there  would  be  a  great  deal  of  noise,  and  there  will  be  many 
of  the  poor  people  asleep." 

So  Sheila  had  her  way;  and  she  and  her  father  went  down 
the  hillside  into  the  .gloom  of  the  village,  while  Lavender 
went  to  join  his  friend  Ingram,  who  was  sitting  on  the 
wooden  bench  silently  smoking  a  clay  pipe. 

"  Well,  I  have  never  seen  the  like  of  this," said  Lavender, 
in  his  impetuous  way;  "  it  is  worth  going  a  thousand  miles 
to  see.  Such  colors  and  such  clearness  !  and  then  the  splen- 
did outlines  of  those  mountains,  and  the  grand  sweep  of  this 
loch  !  This  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  drives  me  to  despair, 
and  might  make  one  vow  never  to  touch  a  brush  again. 
And  Sheila  says  it  will  be  hke  this  all  the  night  through." 

He  was  unaware  that  he  had  spoken  of  her  in  a  very 
familiar  way,  but  Ingram  noticed  it. 

"  Ingram,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  that  is  the  first  girl  I  have 
ever  seen  whom  I  should  like  to  marry." 

"  Stuff !" 

"  But  it  is  true.  I  have  never  seen  any  one  like  her — so 
handsome,  so  gentle,  and  yet  so  very  frank  in  setting  you 
right.  And  then  she  is  so  sensible,  you  know,  and  not  too 
proud  to  have  much  interest  in  all  sorts  of  common  af- 
fairs—" 

There  was  a  smile  in  Ingram's  face,  and  his  companion 
stopped  in  some  vexation:  "You  are  not  a  very  sympa- 
thetic confidant." 

**  Because  I  know  the  story  of  old.  You  have  told  it  me 
about  twenty  women;  and  it  is  always  the  same.  I  tell  you, 
you  don't  know  anything  at  all  about  Sheila  Mackenzie  yet; 
perhaps  you  never  may.  I  suppose  you  will  make  a  heroine 
of  her,  and  will  fall  in  love  with  her  for  a  fortnight,  and 
then  go  back  to  London  and  get  cured  by  listening  to  the 
witticisms  of  Mrs.  Lorraine." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.' 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you.  Some  day,  no  doubt, 
you  will  love  a  woman  for  what  she  is,  not  for  what  you 
fancy  her  to  be;  but  that  is  a  piece  of  good  fortune  that  sel- 
dom occurs  to  a  youth  of  your  age.  'i'o  marry  in  a  dream, 
and  wake  up  six  months  af  erwards — that  is  the  fate  of 
ingenuous  twenty-three.  But  don't  you  let  Mackenzie  hear 
you  talk  of  marrying  Sheila,  or  he'll  have  some  of  his  fisher- 
men throw  you  into  Loch  Roag." 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  43 

"  There,  now,  that  t's  one  point  I  can't  understand  about 
her,"  said  Lavender,  eagerly,  "  How  can  a  girl  of  her 
shrewdness  and  good  sense  have  such  a  belief  in  that  hum- 
bugging old  idiot  of  a  father  of  hers,  who  fancies  me  a  polit- 
ical emissary,  and  plays  small  tricks  to  look  like  diplomacy? 
It  is  always  '  My  papa  can  do  this,'  and  '  My  papa  can  do 
that,'  and  *  There  is  no  one  at  all  like  my  papa.'  And  she  is 
continually  fondling  him,  and  giving  little  demonstrations 
of  affection,  of  which  he  takes  no  more  notice  than  if  he 
were  an  Arctic  bear." 

Ingram  looked  up  with  some  surprise  in  his  face.  "You 
don't  mean  to  say,  Lavender,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  that  you  are 
already  jealous  of  the  girl's  own  father?" 

He  could  not  answer,  for  at  this  moment  Sheila,  her  father 
and  the  big  greyhound  came  up  the  hill.  And  again  it  was 
Lavender's  good  fortune  to  walk  with  Sheila  across  the  moor- 
land path  they  had  traversed  some  little  time  before.  And 
now  the  moon  was  still  higher  in  the  heavens,  and  the  yellow 
lane  of  light  that  crossed  the  violet  waters  of  Loch  Roag 
quivered  in  a  deeper  gold.  The  night  air  was  scented  with 
the  Dutch  clover  growing  down  by  the  shore.  They  could 
hear  the  curlew  whistling  and  the  plover  calling  amid  that 
monotonous  plash  of  the  waves  that  murmured  all  around  the 
coast.  When  they  returned  to  the  house  the  darker  waters  of 
the  Atlantic  and  the  purple  clouds  of  the  West  were  shut  out 
of  sight,  and  before  them  there  was  only  the  liquid  plain  of 
Loch  Roag,  with  its  pathway  of  yellow  fire,  and  far  away  on 
the  other  side  the  shoulders  and  peaks  of  the  Southern  moun- 
tains, that  had  grown  gray  and  clear  and  sharp  in  the  beau- 
tiful twilight.    And  this  was  Sheila's  home. 


44  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


PART     II. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ROMANCE-TIME. 

Early  morning  at  Borva.,  fresh,  luminous  and  rare  ;  the 
mountains  in  the  South  grown  pale  and  cloud-like  under  a 
sapphire  sky;  the  sea  ruffled  into  a  darker  blue  by  a  lignt 
breeze  from  t'le  west  ;  and  the  sunlight  lying  hot  on  the  red 
gravel  and  white  shells  around  Mackenzie's  house.  There  is 
an  odor  of  sweecbrier  about,  hovering  in  the  warm,  still  air, 
except  at  such  times  as  the  breeze  freshens  a  bit,  and  brings 
around  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  the  cold,  strange  scent  of  the 
rocks  and  the  sea  beyond. 

And  on  this  fre.-h  and  pleasant  morning  Sheila  sat  in  the 
big  garden-seat  in  front  of  the  house,  talking  to  the  stranger 
to  whom  she  had  been  introduced  the  day  before.  He  was 
no  more  a  strai:iger,  however,  to  all  appearance,  for  what 
could  be  more  frank  and  friendly  than  their  conversation,  or 
more  bright  and  winning  than  the  smile  with  which  she  fre- 
quently turned  to  speak  or  to  listen  ?  Of  course,  this  stranger 
could  not  be  her  friend  as  Mr.  Ingram  was — that  was  impos- 
sible. But  he  talked  a  great  deal  more  than  Mr.  Ingram, 
and  was  apparently  more  anxious  to  please  and  be  pleased  ; 
and  indeed  was  altogether  very  winning  and  courteous  and 
pleasant  in  his  ways.  Beyond  this  vague  impression  Sheila 
ventured  upon  no  further  comparison  between  the  two  men. 
If  her  older  friend  had  been  down,  she  would  doubtless  have 
preferred  talking  to  him  about  all  that  had  happened  in  the 
island  since  his  last  visit;  but  here  was  this  newer  friend 
thrown,  as  it  were,  upon  her  hospitality,  and  eager,  widi  a 
most  respectful  and  yet  simple  and  friendly  interest,  to  be 
taught  all  that  Ingram  already  knew.  Was  he  not,  too,  in 
mere  appearance  like  one  of  the  princes  she  had  read  of  in 
many  an  ancient  ballad — tall  and  handsome  and  yellcw- 
haired,  fit  to  have  come  sailing  over  the  sea,  with  a  dc  zen 
merry  comrades,  to  carry  off  some  sea-king's  daughter  to  be 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


45 


his  bride  ?  Sheila  began  to  regret  that  the  young  man  knew 
so  little  about  the  sea  and  the  Northern  islands  and  those 
old-time  stories;  but  then  he  was  very  anxio\*s  to  learn. 

"You  must  say  Mach-Klyoda  instead  of  Macleod,"  she 
was  saying  to  him,  "  if  you  like  Styornoway  better  than 
Stornoway.     It  is  the  Gaelic,  that  is  all." 

"  Oh,  it  is  ever  so  much  prettier,"  said  young  Lavender, 
with  a  quite  genuine  enihusiasm  in  his  face,  not  altogether 
begotten  of  the  letter  jv;  "and,  indeed,  I  don't  think  you 
can  possibly  tell  how  singularly  pleasant  and  quaint  it  is  to 
an  English  ear  to  hear  just  that  little  softening  of  the  vowels 
that  the  people  have  here,  I  suppose  you  don't  notice  that 
they  say  gyarden,  for  garden — " 

"  They!"  As  if  he  had  paid  attention  to  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  any  one  except  Sheila  herself. 

"  But  not  quite  so  hard  as  I  pronounce  it.  And  so  with  a 
great  many  other  wcrds,  that  are  softened  and  sweetened  and 
made  almost  poetical  in  their  sound  by  the  least  bit  of  inflec- 
tion. How  surprised  and  pleased  English  ladies  would  be  to 
hear  you  speak!  Ob!  I  beg  your  pardon — I  did  not  mean 
to — I — I  beg  your  pardon — " 

Sheila  seemed  a  little  astonished  by  her  companion's  evi- 
dent mortification,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "  If  others  speak  so 
in  the  island,  of  course  I  must  too;  and  you  say  it  does  not 
shock  you." 

His  distress  at  his  own  rudeness  now  found  an  easy  vent. 
He  protested  that  no  people  could  talk  English  like  the  peo- 
ple of  Lewis.  He  gave  Sheila  to  understand  that  the  speech 
of  English  folks  was  as  the  croaking  of  ravens  compared  with 
the  sweet  tones  of  the  Northern  isles;  and  this  drew  him  on 
to  speak  of  his  friends  in  the  South,  and  of  London,  and  the 
chances  of  Sheila  ever  going  thither. 

"It  must  be  so  strange  never  to  have  seen  London,"  he 
said.  "  Don't  you  ever  dream  of  what  it  is  like  ?  Don't  you 
ever  try  to  think  of  a  great  space,  nearly  as  big  as  this  island, 
all  covered  over  with  large  houses,  the  roads  between  the 
houses  all  made  of  stone,  and  great  bridges  going  over  the 
rivers,  with  railway  trains  standing?  By  the  way,  you  have 
never  seen  a  railway  engine?  " 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  astonishment,  as  if  he  had 
not  hitherto  realized  to  himself  the  absolute  ignorance  of  the 
remote  princess.     Sheila,  with  some  little  touch  of  humor 


46'  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

appearing  in  her  calm  eyes,  said:  '*  But  I  am  not  quite  igno- 
rani:  of  all  these  things.  I  have  seen  pictures  of  them,  and 
my  papa  has  described  them  so  often  that  I  will  feel  as  if  1 
had  seen  them  all;  and  I  do  not  think  thpt  I  should  be  sur- 
prised, except,  perhaps,  by  the  noise  of  the  big  towns.  It 
was  many  a  time  my  papa  told  me  of  that;  but  he  says  I  can- 
not understand  it,  nor  the  great  distance  of  land  you  travel 
over  to  get  to  London.  That  is  what  I  do  not  wish  to  see. 
I  was  often  thinking  of  it,  and  that  lo  pass  so  many  places 
that  you  do  not  know  would  make  you  very  sad." 

"  That  can  be  easily  avoided,"  he  said,  lightly.  "  When 
you  go  to  London  you  must  go  from  Glasgow  or  Edinburgh 
in  a  night  train,  and  fall  fast  asleep,  and  in  the  morning  you 
will  find  yourself  in  London,  without  having  seen  anything." 

"  Just  as  if  one  had  gone  across  a  great  distance  of  sea,  and 
come  to  another  island  you  will  never  see  before,"  said 
Sheila,  with  the  gray-blue  eyes  under  the  black  eyelashes 
grown  strange  and  distant. 

"  But  you  must  not  think  of  it  as  a  melancholy  thing,"  he 
said,  almost  anxiously.  "You  will  find  yourself  among  all 
sons  of  gaities  and  amusements  ;  you  will  have  cheerful 
people  around  you,  and  plenty  of  things  to  see  ;  you  will  drive 
in  beautiful  parks,  and  go  to  theatres,  and  meet  people  in  large 
and  brilliant  rooms,  filled  with  fijwers,  and  silver,  and  light. 
And  all  through  the  winter,  that  must  be  so  cold  and  dark 
up  here,  you  will  find  aa  abundance  of  warmth  and  light,  and 
plenty  of  flowers,  and  every  sort  of  pleasant  thing.  You  will 
hear  no  more  of  those  songs  of  drowned  people;  and  you  will 
be  afraid  no  longer  of  storms,  or  listen  to  the  waves  at  night; 
and  by-and-by,  when  you  have  got  quite  accustomed  to  Lon- 
don, and  got  a  great  many  fiien  Js,  you  might  be  disposed  to 
stay  there  altogether  ;  and  you  would  grow  to  think  of  this 
island  as  a  desolate  and  melancholy  place,  and  never  seek  to 
come  back.'' 

The  girl  rose  suddenly  and  turned  to  a  fuchsia  tree,  pre- 
tending to  pick  some  of  its  flowers.  Tears  had  sprung  to  her 
eyes  unbidden,  and  it  was  in  rather  an  uncertain  voice  that 
she  said,  still  managing  to  conceal  her  face:  "  I  like  to  hear 
you  talk  of  those  places,  but  —  but  I  will  never  leave  Borva." 
^  What  possible  interest  could  he  have  in  combating  this  de- 
cision so  anxiously,  almost  so  imploringly  ?  He  renewed  his 
complaints  against  the  melancholy  of  the  sea  and  the  dreari- 


A   PRINCESi   OF    THULE.  47 

ness  of  the  Northern  winters.  He  described  again  and  again 
the  brilliant  lights  and  colors  of  town  life  in  the  South.  As 
a  mere  matter  of  experience  and  education  she  ought  to  go  to 
London  ;  and  had  not  her  papa  as  good  as  intimated  his  in- 
tention of  taking  her  ? 

In  the  midst  of  these  representations  a  step  was  heard  in 
the  hall,  and  then  the  girl  looked  around  with  a  bright  light 
on  her  face. 

"  Well,  Sheila,"  said  Ingram,  according  to  his  custom,  and 
both  the  giri's  hands  were  in  his  the  next  minute,  "you  are 
down  early.  What  have  you  been  about?  Have  you  been 
telling  Mr.  Lavender  about  the  Black  Horse  of  Loch  Suain- 
abhal  ?" 

"  No;  Mr.  Lavender  has  been  telling  me  of  London." 
**And  I  have  been  trying  to  induce  Miss  Mackenzie  to 
pay  us  a  visit,  so  that  we  may  show  her  the  difference  be- 
tween a  city  and  an  island.  But  all  to  no  purpose.  Miss 
Mackenzie  seems  to  like  hard  winters,  and  darkness,  and 
cold;  and  as  for  that  perpetual  and  melancholy  and  cruel 
S3a  that  in  the  winter  time,  I  should  fancy,  might  drive  any- 
body into  a  lunatic  asylum — " 

"  Ah,  you  must  not  talk  badly  of  the  sea,"  said  the  girl, 
with  all  her  courage  and  brightness  returned  to  her  face: 
"  It  is  our  very  good  friend.  It  gives  us  food,  and  keeps 
many  people  alive.  It  carries  the  lads  away  to  other  places, 
and  brings  them  back  with  money  in  their  pockets  — " 

*'  And  sometimes  it  smashes  a  few  of  them  on  the  rocks, 
or  swallows  up  a  dozen  families,  and  the  next  morning  it  is 
as  smooth  and  treacherous  and  fair  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened." 

"  But  that  is  not  the  sea  at  all,"  said  Sheila;  "  that  is  the 
storms  that  will  wreck  the  boats;  and  how  can  the  sea  help 
that  ?  When  the  sea  is  left  alone  the  sea  is  very  good  to  us." 
Ingram  laughed  aloud  and  patted  the  girl's  head  fondly; 
and  Lavender,  blushing  a  little,  confessed  h-i  was  beaten, 
and  that  he  would  never  again,  in  Miss  Mackenzie's  presence, 
say  anything  against  the  s^a. 

The  Kmg  of  Borva  now  appearing,  they  all  went  in  to 
breakfast;  and  Sheila  sat  opposite  the  window,  so  that  all  the 
light  coming  in  from  the  clear  sky  and  tlie  sea  was  reflected 
upon  her  face,  and  lit  up  every  varying  expression  that 
crossed  it  or  that  shone  up  in  the  beautiful  deeps  of  her  eyes. 


48  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

Lavender,  his  own  face  in  shadow,  could  look  at  he^  from 
time  to  time,  himself  unseen;  and  as  he  sat  in  almost  abso- 
lute silence,  and  noticed  how  ^he  talked  with  Ingram,  and 
what  deference  she  paid  him,  and  how  anxious  she  was  to 
please  him,  he  began  to  wonder  if  he  should  ever  be  admit- 
ted to  a  like  friendship  with  her.  It  was  so  strange,  too,  that 
this  handsome,  proud-featured,  proud-spirited  girl  should  so 
devo'.e  herself  to  the  amusement  of  a  man  like  Ingram,  and, 
forgetting  all  the  court  that  should  have  been  paid  to  a  pret- 
ty woman,  seem  determined  to  persuade  him  that  he  was  con- 
ferring a  favor  upon  her  by  every  word  and  look.  Of  course, 
Lavenderadmitted  to  himself,  Ingram  was  a  very  good  sort 
of  a  fellow — a  very  good  sort  of  a  fellow,  indeed.  If  any 
one  was  in  a  scrape  about  money,  Ingram  would  come  to  the 
rescue  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  although  the  salary  of 
a  clerk  in  the  Board  of  Trade  might  have  been  made  the  ex- 
cuse, by  any  other  man,  for  a  very  justifiable  refusal.  He  was 
very  clever,  too — had  read  much,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing. 
But  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  you  might  expect  to  get  on 
well  with  women.  Unless  with  very  intimate  friends  he  was 
a  trifle  silent  and  reserved.  Often  he-was  inclined  to  be  prag- 
matic and  sententious,  and  had  a  habit  of  saying  unpleasant- 
ly better  things  when  some  careless  joke  was  being  made. 

He  was  a  little  dingy  in  appearance,  and  a  man  who  had  a 
somewhat  cold  manner,  who  was  sallow  of  face,  who  was 
obviously  getting  gray,  and  who  was  generally  insignificant 
in  appearance,  was  not  the  sort  of  man,  one  would  think,  to 
fascinate  an  exceptionally  handsome  girl,  who  had  brains 
enough  to  know  the  fineness  of  her  own  face.  But  here  was  this 
princess  paying  attentions  to  him,  such  as  must  have  driven 
a  more  impressionable  man  out  of  his  senses,  while  Ingram 
sat  quiet  and  pleased,  sometimes  making  fun  of  her,  and  gen- 
erally talking  to  her  as  if  she  were  a  child.  Sheila  had  chatted 
very  pleasantly  with  him.  Lavender,  in  the  morning,  but  it 
was  evident  that  her  relations  with  Ingram  were  of  a  very 
different  kind,  such  as  he  could  not  well  understand.  For  it 
was  scarcely  possible  that  she  could  be  in  love  with  Ingram, 
and  yet,  surely  the  pleasure  that  dweit  in  her  expressive 
face,  when  she  spoke  to  him  or  listened  to  him,  was  not  the 
result  of  a  mere  friendship. 

If  Lavender  had  been  told  at  that  moment  that  these  two 
v/ere  lovers,  and  that  they  were  looking  forward  to  an  early 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  49 

marriage,  he  would  have  rejoiced  with  an  enthusiasm  of  joy. 
He  would  have  honestly  and  cordially  shaken  Ingram  by  the 
hand;  he  would  have  made  plans  for  introducing  the  young 
bride  to  all  the  people  he  knew;  and  he  would  have  gone 
straight  off,  on  reaching  London,  to  buy  Sheila  a  diamond 
necklace,  even  if  he  had  to  borrow  the  money  from  Ingram 
himself. 

"And  have  you  got  rid  of  the  Ai'r^^wd-cearc*  Sheila.^^ 
said  Ingram,  suddenly  breaking  in  upon  these  dreams;  "  or 
does  every  owner  of  hens  still  pay  his  annual  shilling  to  the 
Lord  of  Lewis?" 

"  It  is  not  away  yet,"  said  the  girl,  "but  when  Sir  James 
comes  in  the  autumn  I  will  go  over  to  Stornoway  and  ask 
him  to  take  away  the  tax;  and  I  know  he  will  do  it,  for  what 
is  the  shilling  worth  to  him,  when  he  has  spent  thousands  and 
thousands  of  pounds  on  the  Lewis?  But  it  will  be  very  hard 
on  some  of  the  poor  people  that  only  keep  one  or  two  hens; 
and  I  will  tell  Sir  James  of  all  that — " 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Sheila,"  said  her  father, 
impatiently.  *'  What  is  the  Airgiod-cearc  to  you,  that  you 
will  go  over  to  Stornoway  only  to  be  laughed  at  and  make  a 
fool  of  yourself?" 

"  That  is  nothing — not  anything  at  all,"  said  the  girl,  "  if 
Sir  James  will  only  take  away  the  tax." 

"  Why,  Sheila,  they  would  treat  you  as  another  Lady 
Godiva,"  said  Ingram,  with  a  good-humored  smile. 

"  But  Miss  Mackenzie  is  qui:e  right,"  exclaimed  Lavender, 
■with  a  sudden  flush  of  color  leaping  into  his  handsome  face, 
and  an  honest  glow  of  admiration  into  his  eyes.  "  I  think  it 
is  a  very  noble  thing  for  her  to  do,  and  nobody,  either  in 
Stornoway  or  anywhere  else,  would  be  such  a  brute  as  to 
laugh  at  her  for  trying  to  help  those  poor  people,  who  have 
not  too  many  friends  and  defenders,  God  knows." 

Ingram  looked  surprised.  Since  when  had  the  young  gen- 
tleman across  the  table  acquired  such  a  singular  interest  in 
the  poorer  classes,  of  whose  very  existence  he  had  for  the 
most  part  seemed  unaware  ?  But  the  enthusiasm  in  his  face 
seemed  quite  honest;  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  As 
for  Sheila,  with  a  beating  heart  she  ventured  to  send  to  her 
companion  a  brief  and  timid  glance  of  gratitude,  which  the 
young  man  observed,  and  never  forgot. 

♦  Pronounced  Argyud-charkj  literally,  "  hen  money." 


A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 
5° 

-You  Will  not  know  what  it  is  all  about,"  said  the  King 
of  Borva,  w  th  a  peevish  air,  as  though  it  were  too  bad  that  a 
person  of  his  authority  should  have  to  descend  to  details 
£rapety  hen-tax/  -It  is  n^any  and  many  a  tax  and  a 
durSi?  Tames  will  take  away  from  his  tenants  m  the  Lewis, 
fndheitu^pendmoremoney  a  thousand  tunes  th.ne^^r 
he  will  get  back;  and  it  was  this  Airgtsd-c^arc,  it  w  11  stand 
in  the  place  of  a  great  many  things  taken  away,  just  to  re- 
mind't!JL  folk  tha't  they  hav^  not  their  land  all  m  therr  own 
right.  It  is  many  things  you  will  have  to  do  ^^  "l^"^g^§ 
the  noor  people,  not  to  let  them  get  too  proud,  or  forgettul 
ofwhartheyow^toyoujandnowthereis  no  more  tacks- 
men to  bfthe  masters  of  the  small  crofters,  and  the  crofters 
Tey  would  thfnk  they  were  landlords  themselves  if  there 

^^Th^ave^^el^do^^^th^^^^id^  they   were  dreadful 

tvrants  and  thieves,  weren't  they?"  said  Lavender.  l^W^r^ 
I  ked  his  foot  und'er  the  table.  ''  I  mean,  tl-t -s^^^P^^^- 
ular  impression  of  them-a  vulgar  error,  I  pre^^J^e'  ce  n 
l^nned  the  voun-  man,  in  the  coolest  manner.  'And  so  you 
have Vot  ild  Sf  them?  Well,  I  dare  say  many  of  them 
welehlnest  men,  and  suffered  very  urijustly  m  common  re- 

P^Mackenzie  answered  nothing  but  his  ^-^g^^^^^^f^^f ^^'ly 

.But  you  know^-  Lavender   they  h^^^^^^^^ 

rnerelv  because  they  ceas     to  have  t^^^^^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^^^.^ 

t.  "oftrrt,  in^m^ft  c^Iel"  eU  one  now  ho^ids  direct  from 

^^^^.^So^LTtf^e^retnfdifferericebetweent^^^^^^^^^^ 

-{;-ttrS»:^^^ 

A..r  It  i';  too  clear  for  the  salmon  tishmg.  Will  you  go  over 
fo^Meilig  and  show  Mr.  Lavender  the  Bay  of  U.g  and  the 

'""  Surdrwe'must  show  him  Borvapos,  first  Sheila^"  said 
Tr<.ram  '■  He  saw  nothing  of  it  last  night  in  the  dark,  and 
T  S' if  vou  offered  to  take  Mr.  Lavender  aronnd  in  your 
Ual  and'shofhiin  what  a  clever , sailor  you  are,  he  would 
prefer  that  to  walking  over  the  hill. 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  gl 

"  I  can  take  you  all  around  in  the  boat,  certainly,"  said  the 
girl,  with  a  quick  blush  of  pleasure;  and  forthwith  a  mes- 
sage w^as  sent  to  Duncan  that  cushions  should  be  taken  down 
to  the  Maighdean-mhara,  the  little  vessel  of  which  Sheila  was 
both  skipper  and  pilot. 

How  beautiful  wai  the  fair  sea-picture  that  lay  around  them 
as  the  Maighdean-mhara  stood  out  to  the  mouth  of  Loch 
Roag  on  this  bright  Summer  morning!  Sheila  sat  in  the 
stern  of  the  small  boat,  her  hand  on  the  tiller.  Lufrath  lay 
at  her  feet,  his  nose  between  the  long  and  shaggy  paws. 
Duncan,  grave  and  watchful  as  to  the  wind  and  the  points  of 
the  coast,  sat  amidships,  with  the  sheets  of  the  mainsail  held 
fast,  and  superintended  the  seamanship  of  his  young  mis- 
tress with  a  respectful  but  most  evident  pride.  And  as 
Ingram  had  gone  off  with  Mackenzie  to  walk  over  the  White 
Water  before  going  down  to  Borvapost,  Frank  Lavender  was 
Sheila's  sole  companion  out  in  this  wonderland  of  rock  and 
sea  and  blue  sky. 

He  did  not  talk  much  to  her,  and  she  was  so  well  occupied 
with  the  boat  that  he  could  regard  wiih  impunity  the  shifting 
lights  and  graces  of  her  face  and  all  the  wonder  and  winning 
depths  of  her  eyes.  The  sea  was  blue  a -ound  them;  the 
sky  overhead  had  not  a  speck  of  cloud  in  it ;  the  while  sand- 
bays,  the  green  stretches  of  pasture  and  the  far  and  spectral 
mountains  trembled  in  a  haze  of  sunlight.  Then  there  was 
all  the  delight  of  the  fresh  and  cool  wind,  the  hissing  of  the 
water  along  the  boat,  and  the  joyous  rapidity  with  which 
the  small  vessel,  lying  over  a  little,  ran  through  the  crisply 
curling  waterS;  and  brought  into  view  the  newer  wonders  of 
the  opening  sea. 

Was  it  not  all  a  dream,  that  he  should  be  sitting  by  the 
side  of  this  sea-princess,  who  was  attended  only  by  her  deer- 
hound  and  the  tall  keeper?  And  if  a  dream,  why  should  it 
not  go  on  forever?  To  live  forever  in  this  magic  land— to  have 
the  princess  herself  carry  him  in  this  lictle  boat  into  the  quiet 
bays  of  the  islands,  or  out  at  night,  in  the  moonlight,  on  the 
open  sea — to  forget  forever  the  godless  South  and  its  social 
phantasmagoria,  and  live  in  this  beautiful  and  distant  solitude, 
with  the  solemn  secrets  of  the  hills  and  the  moving  deep  for- 
ever present  to  the  imagination,  might  not  that  be  a  nobler 
life?  And  some  day  or  other  he  would  take  this  island- 
princess  up  to  London,  and  he  would  bid    the  women  that 


52 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


he  knew— the  scheming  mothers  and  the  doll-hke  daughters 

stand  aside  from  before  this  perfect  work  of  God.     She 

would  carry  with  her  the  mystery  of  the  sea  in  the  deeps  of 
her  eyes,  and  the  music  of  the  far  hills  would  be  heard  in 
her  voice,  and  all  the  sweetness  and  purity  and  brightness  of 
the  clear  Summer  skies  would  be  mirrored  in  her  innocent 
soul.  She  would  appear  in  London  as  some  wild-plumaged 
bird  hailing  from  distant  climes,  and  before  she  had  lived 
there  long  enough  to  grow  sad,  and  have  the  weight  of  the 
city  cloud  the  brightness  of  her  eyes,  she  would  be  spirited 
away  again  into  this  strange  sea-kingdom,  where  there  seemed 
to  be  perpetual  sunshine  and  the  light  music  of  the  waves. 

Poor  Sheila  1  She  little  knew  what  was  expected  of  her, 
or  the  sort  of  drama  into  which  she  was  being  thrown  as  a 
central  figure.  She  little  knew  that  she,  a  simple  Highland 
girl,  was°being  transformed  into  a  wonderful  creature  of 
romance,  who  was  to  put  to  shame  the  gentle  dames  and 
maidens  of  London  society,  and  do  many  other  extraordi- 
nary things.  But  what  would  have  appeared  the  most  ex- 
traordinary of  all  these  speculations,  if  she  had  only  known 
of  them,  was  the  assumption  that  she  wou  d  marry  Frank 
Lavender.  TA  a/ the  young  man  had  quite  naturally  taken 
for  granted;  but,  perhaps,  only  as  a  basis  for  his  imaginative 
scenes.  In  order  to  do  these  fine  things  she  would  have  to 
be  married  to  somebody,  and  why  not  to  himself?  Think 
of  the  pride  he  would  have  in  leading  this  beautiful  girl, 
with  her  quaint  manners  and  fashion  of  speech,  into  a  Lon- 
don drawing-room!  Would  not  every  one  wish  to  know  her? 
Would  not  everyone  listen  to  her  singing  of  those  Gaelic 
songs  ?  for,  of  course,  she  must  sing  well.  Would  not  all 
his  artist  friends  be  anxious  to  paint  her?  and  she  would  go 
to  the  Academy  to  convince  the  loungers  there  how  utterly 
the  canvas  had  failed  to  catch  the  light  and  dignity  and 
sweetness  of  her  face. 

When  Sheila  spoke  he  started. 
"  Did  you  not  see  it  ?'' 
"  What  ?" 

"The  seal;  it  rose  for  a  moment  just  over  there,"  said  the 
girl,  with  a  great  interest  visible  in  her  eyes. 

The  beautiful  dreams  he  had  been  dreaming  were  consid- 
erably shattered  by  this  interruption.  How  could  a  fairy 
princess  be  so  interested  in  some  common  animal  showing 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  53 

its  head  out  of  the  sea  ?  It  also  occurred  to  him,  just  at  this 
moment,  ihat  if  Sheila  and  Mairi  went  out  in  this  boat  by 
themselves,  they  must  be  in  the  habit  of  hoisting  up  the 
mainsail;  and  was  such  rude  and  coarse  work  befitting  the 
character  of  a  princess  ? 

*'  He  looks  very  like  a  black  man  in  the  water,  when  his 
head  comes  up,"  said  Sheila — "when  the  water  is  smooth,  so 
that  you  will  see  him  look  at  you.  But  I  have  not  told  you 
yet  about  the  Black  Horse  that  Alister-nan-Each  saw  at  Loch 
Suainabhal  one  night.  Loch  Suainabhal,  that  is  inland  and 
fresh  water — so  it  was  not  a  seal;  but  Alister  was  going  along 
the  shore,  and  he  saw  it  lying  up  by  the  road,  and  he  looked 
at  it  for  a  long  time.  It  was  quite  black,  and  he  thuuglit  it 
was  a  boat;  but  when  he  came  near,  he  saw  it  begin  to  move, 
and  then  it  went  down  across  the  shore,  and  splashed  into 
the  loch.  And  it  had  a  head  bigger  than  a  horse,  and  quite 
black,  and  it  made  a  noise  as  it  went  down  the  shore  to  the 
loch." 

"  Don't  you  think  Alister  must  have  been  taking  a  little 
whisky,  Miss  Mackenzie?'' 

"  i\o,  not  that;  for  he  came  to  me  just  after  he  will  see  the 
beast." 

"And  do  you  really  believe  he  saw  such  an  animal?"  said 
Lavender,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  girl,  gravely.  "  Perhaps  it 
was  only  a  fright,  and  he  imagined  he  saw  it;  but  I  do 
not  know  it  is  impossible  there  can  be  such  an  animal  at 
Loch  Suainabhal.  But  that  is  nothing;  it  is  of  no  conse- 
quence. But  I  have  seen  stranger  things  than  the  Black 
Horse,  that  many  people  will  not  believe." 
"  May  I  ask  what  they  are  ?  "  he  said,  gently. 
"Some  other  time,  perhaps,  I  will  tell  you;  but  there  is 
much  explanation  about  it,  and,  you  see,  we  are  going  in  to 
Borvapost." 

Was  this,  then,  the  capital  of  the  small  emp're  over  which 
the  princess  ruled?  He  saw  before  him  but  a  long  row  of 
small  huts  or  hovels,  resembling  beehives,  which  stood  above 
the  curve  of  a  white  bay,  and  at  one  portion  of  the  bay  was 
a  small  creek,  near  which  a  number  of  large  boats,  bottom 
upward,  lay  on  the  beach.  What  odd  little  dwellings  those 
were  1  The  walls,  a  few  feet  high,  were  built  of  rude  blocks 
of  stone  or  slices  of  turf,  and  from  those  low  supports  rose  a 


54  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

rounded  roof  of  straw,  which  was  thatched  over  by  a  further 
layer  of  turf.  There  were  few  windows,  and  no  chimneys  at 
all — not  even  a  hole  in  the  roof  And  what  was  meant  by 
the  two  men,  who,  standing  on  one  of  the  turf  walls,  were 
busily  engaged  in  digging  into  the  rich  brown  and  black 
thatch  and  heaving  it  into  a  cart?  Sheila  had  to  explain  to 
him  that  while  she  was  doing  everything  in  her  power  to  get 
the  people  to  suffer  the  introduction  of  windows,  it  was  hope- 
less to  think  of  chimneys;  for  by  carefully  guarding  against 
the  egress  of  the  peat  smoke,  it  slowly  saturated  the  thatch  of 
the  roof,  which  at  certain  periods  of  the  year  was  then  taken 
off  to  dress  the  fields,  and  a  new  roof  of  straw  put  on. 

By  this  time  they  had  run  the  Maighdean-mhara — the  ''Sea 
Maiden  "  into  a  creek,  and  were  climbing  up  the  steep  beach 
of  shingle  that  had  been  worn  smooth  by  the  unquiet  waters 
of  the  Atlantic. 

'*  And  will  you  want  to  speak  to  me,  Ailasa?"  said  Sheila, 
turning  to  a  small  girl  who  had  approached  her  somewhat 
diffidently. 

She  was  a  pretty  little  thing,  with  a  round,  fair  face,  tanned 
by  the  sun,  brown  hair  and  soft,  dark  eyes.  She  was  bare- 
headed, bare-footed  and  bare-armed,  but  she  was  otlietwi^e 
smartly  dressed,  and  she  held  in  her  hand  an  enormous 
flounder,  apparently  about  half  as  heavy  as  herself. 

**  Will  ye  hef  the  fesh,  Miss  Sheila,"  said  the  small  Ailasa, 
holding  out  the  flounder,  but  looking  down  all  the  same. 

"Did  you  catch  it  yourself,  Ailasa?" 

**  Yes,  it  wass  Donald  and  me;  we  wass  out  in  a  boat,  and 
Donald  had  a  line." 

'*  And  it  is  a  present  for  me  ?"  said  Sheila,  patting  the 
small  head  and  its  wild  and  soft  hair.  "  Thank  you,  Ailasa. 
But  you  must  ask  Donald  to  carry  it  up  to  the  house  and  give 
it  to  Mairi.     I  cannot  take  it  with  me  just  now,  you  know." 

There  was  a  small  boy  cowering  behind  one  of  the  upturned 
boats,  and  by  his  furtive  peepings  showing  that  he  was  in 
league  with  his  sister.  Ailasa,  not  thinking  that  she  was  dis- 
covering his  whereabouts,  turned  quite  naturally  in  that 
direction,  until  she  was  suddenly  stopped  by  Lavender,  who 
called  to  her  and  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket.  But  he  was 
too  late.  Sheila  had  stepped  in,  and  with  a  quick  look, 
which  was  all  the  protect  that  was  needed,  shut  her  hand 
over  the  half  crown  he  had  in  his  fingers. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  55 

"  Never  mind,  Ailasa,"  she  said.  "  Go  away  and  get  Don- 
ald, and  bid  him  carry  the  fish  up  to  Mairi.'* 

Lavender  put  up  the  half-crown  in  his  pocket  in  a  some- 
what dazed  fashion;  what  he  chiefly  knew  was  that  Sheila 
had  for  a  moment  held  his  hand  in  hers,  and  that  her  eyes 
had  met  his. 

Well,  that  little  incident  of  Ailasa  and  the  flounder  was 
rather  pleasant  to  him.  It  did  not  shock  the  romantic 
associations  he  had  begun  to  weave  around  his  fair  companion. 
But  when  they  had  gone  up  to  the  cottages — Mackenzie  and 
Ingram  not  yet  having  arrived — and  when  Sheila  proceeded 
to  tell  him  about  the  circumstances  of  the  fiUiermen's  lives, 
and  to  explain  how  such  and  such  things  were  done  in  the 
fields  and  pickling  houses,  and  so  forth,  Lavender  was  a  little 
disappointed.  Sheila  took  him  into  some  of  the  cottages,  or 
rather  hovels,  and  he  vaguely  knew  in  the  darkness  that  she 
sat  down  by  the  low  glow  of  the  peat-fire,  and  began  to 
ask  the  women  about  all  sorts  of  improvements  in  the 
walls  and  windows  and  gardens,  and  what  not.  Surely  it 
was  not  for  a  princess  to  go  advising  people  about  particular 
sorts  of  soap,  or  offering  to  pay  for  a  pane  of  glass  if  the  hus- 
band of  the  woman  would  make  the  necessary  aperture  in  the 
stone-wall.  The  picture  of  Sheila  appearing  as  a  sea-princess 
in  a  London  drawing-room  was  all  very  beautiful  in  its  way, 
but  here  she  was  discussing  as  to  the  quality  given  to  broth 
by  the  addition  of  a  certain  vegetable  which  she  offered  to 
send  down  from  her  own  garden,  if  the  cottager  in  question 
would  try  to  grow  it. 

"  1  wonder,  Miss  Mackenzie,"  he  said,  at  length,  when  they 
got  ouibide,  his  eyes  dazed  with  the  light  and  smarting  with 
the  peat-smoke,  "I  wonder  you  can  trouble  yourself  with 
such  little  matters,  that  those  people  should  find  out  for 
themselves." 

The  girl  looked  up  with  some  surprise:  *'  That  is  the  work 
I  have  to  do.  My  papa  cannot  do  everything  in  the  island." 
"  But  what  is  the  necessity  for  your  bothering  yourself 
about  such  things?  Surely  they  ought  to  be  able  to  look 
after  their  own  gardens  and  houses.  It  is  no  degradation — 
certainly  not;  for  anything  you  interested  yourself  in  would 
become  worthy  of  attention  by  the  very  fact — but,  after  all, 
\t  seems  such  a  pity  you  should  give  up  your  time  to  these 
commonplace  details." 


56  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

''  But  some  one  must  do  it,''  said  the  girl,  quite  innocently, 
"  and  my  papa  has  no  time.  And  they  will  be  very  good  in 
doing  what  I  ask  them — everyone  in  the  island.'' 

Was  this  a  willful  affectation  ?  he  said  to  himself.  Or  was 
she  really  incapable  of  understanding  that  there  was  anything 
incongruous  ina  young  lady  of  her  position,  education  and  re- 
finement busying  herself  with  the  curing  of  fish  and  the  cost  of 
lime?  He  had  himself  marked  the  incongruity  long  ago, 
Avhen  Ingram  had  been  telling  him  of  the  remote  and  beau- 
tiful maiden  whose  only  notions  of  the  world  had  been 
derived  from  literature — who  was  more  familiar  with  the 
magic  land  in  which  Endymion  wandered  than  with  any 
other — and  that  at  the  same  time  she  was  about  as  good  as 
her  father  at  planning  a  wooden  bridge  over  a  stream.  When 
Lavender  had  got  outside  again — when  he  found  himself 
walking  with  her  along  the  white  beach  in  front  of  the  blue 
Atlantic — she  was  again  the  princess  of  his  dreams.  He 
looked  at  her  face,  and  he  saw  in  her  eyes  that  she  must  be 
familiar  with  all  the  romantic  nooks  and  glades  of  English 
poetry.  The  plashing  of  the  waves  down  there  and  the 
music  of  her  voice  recalled  the  sad  legends  of  the  fishermen 
he  hoped  to  hear  her  sing.  But  ever  and  anon  there  occurred 
a  jarring  recollection — whether  arising  from  a  contradiction 
between  his  notion  of  Sheila  and  the  actual  Sheila,  or 
whether  from  some  incongruity  in  itself,  he  did  not  stop  to 
consider.  He  only  knew  that  a  beautiful  maiden  who  had 
lived  by  the  sea  all  her  life,  and  who  had  followed  the  wan- 
derings of  Endymion  in  the  enchanted  forest,  need  not  have 
been  so  particular  about  a  method  of  boiling  potatoes,  or 
have  shown  so  much  interest  in  a  pattern  for  children's  frocks. 

Mackenzie  and  Ingram  met  them.  There  was  the  usual 
"Well,  Sheila?"  followed  by  a  thousand  questions  about  the 
very  things  she  had  heen  inquiring  into.  That  was  one  of 
the  odd  points  about  Ingram  that  puzzled  and  sometimes 
vexed  Lavender  ;  for  if  you  are  walking  home  at  night  it  is 
inconvenient  to  be  accompanied  by  a  friend  who  would  stop 
to  ask  about  the  circumstances  of  some  old  crone  hobbling 
along  the  pavement,  or  who  could,  on  his  own  door-step,  stop 
to  have  a  chat  with  a  garrulous  policeman.  Ingram  was 
about  as  odd  as  Sheila  herself  in  the  attention  he  paid  to 
those  wretched  cotters  and  their  doings.  He  could  not 
advise  on  the  important  subject  of  brothj  but  he  would  have 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  57 

tasted  it  by  way  of  discovery,  even  if  it  had  been  presented 
to  him  in  a  tea-cup.  He  had  ah-eady  been  prowling  around 
the  place  v  iih  Mackenzie.  He  had  inspected  the  apparatus 
in  the  creek  for  hauling  up  the  boats.  He  had  visited  the 
curing  houses.  He  had  examined  the  heaps  of  fish  drying  on 
the  beach.  He  had  drunk  whisky  with  John  the  Piper  and 
shaken  hands  with  Alister-nan-Kach.  And  now  he  had  come 
to  tell  Sheila  that  the  piper  was  brirging  down  luncheon 
from  Mackenzie's  house,  and  that  after  they  had  eaten  and 
drunk  on  tiie  white  beach  they  would  put  out  the  Maighdean- 
mhara  once  more  to  sea,  and  sail  over  to  Mevaig,  that  the 
stranger  might  see  the  wondrous  sands  of  the  Bay  of  Uig. 

But  it  was  not  in  consonance  with  the  dignity  of  a  king 
that  his  guests  should  eat  from  off  the  p;ibble3,  like  so  many 
fishermen,  and  when  Mairi  and  another  girl  brought  down 
the  baskets,  luncheon  was  placed  in  the  stern  of  the  small 
vessel,  while  Duncan  got  up  the  sails  and  put  out  from  the 
stone  quay.  As  fjr  John  the  Piper,  was  he  in3U:ted  for  hav- 
ing been  sent  on  a  menial  errand  ?  1  hey  had  scarcely  got 
away  from  the  shore  w  len  the  sounds  of  the  pipes  were  wafted 
to  tiiem  from  the  hillside  above,  and  it  was  the  "  Lament 
of  Mackrimmon"  that  followed  them  out  to  sea  : 

Mackrimmon  shall  no  more  return, 
Oh  never,  never  m  re  return  ! 

That  was  the  wild  and  ominous  air  that  was  skirling  up  on 
the  hillside;  and  Mackenzie's  face,  as  he  heard  it,  grew 
wroth.  "  That  teffle  of  a  piper,  John !  "  he  said,  "  will  be  play- 
ing Cha  till  vii  tuiligh  ?  " 

"It  is  out  of  mischief,  papa,"  sxid  Sheila — "that  is  all."' 

'•  It  will  be  more  than  mischief  if  I  burn  his  pipes  and 
drive  him  out  of  Borva.  Then  there  will  be  no  more  of 
mischief." 

"  It  is  very  bad  of  John  to  do  that,"  said  Sheila  to  Laven- 
der, apparently  in  explanation  of  her  father's  anger,  "  for  we 
have  given  him  shelter  here  when  there  will  be  no  more  pipes 
in  all  the  Lewis.  It  was  the  Free  Church  ministers,  they  put 
down  the  pipes,  for  there  was  too  much  wildness  at  the  mar- 
riages when  the  pipes  would  play." 

•'And  what  do  the  people  dance  to  now?"  asked  the 
young  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  resent  this  paternal  govern- 
ment. 

Sheila  laughed  in  an  embarrassed  way. 


58  A   PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

"  Miss  Mackenzie  would  rather  not  tell  yo«,"  said  Ingram. 
"The  fact  is,  the  noble  mountaineers  of  these  districts  have 
had  to  fall  back  on  the  Jew's  harp.  The  ministers  allow  the 
instrument  to  be  use  1  —  I  suppose  because  there  is  a  look  of 
piety  in  the  n.me.  But  the  dancing  doesn't  get  very  mad 
when  you  have  two  or  three  young  fellows  playing  a  strath- 
spey on  a  bit  of  a  trembling  wire." 

"  That  teffle  of  a  pper  John  !"  growled  Mackenzie,  under 
his  breath;  and  so  the  Maighdean-mhara  lightly  sped  on  her 
way,  opening  out  the  various  headlands  of  the  islands,  until 
at  last  she  got  into  the  narrows  by  Eilean-Aird-Meinish,  and 
ran  up  the  long  arm  of  the  sea  to  Mevaig. 

They  landed  and  went  up  the  rocks.  They  passed  two  or 
three  small  white  houses  overlooking  the  still,  green  waters 
of  the  sea,  and  then,  following  the  line  of  a  river,  plunged 
into  the  heart  of  a  strange  and  lonely  district,  in  which  there 
appeared  to  be  no  life.  The  river  track  took  them  up  a 
green  glen,  the  sides  of  which  were  about  as  sheer  as  a  rail- 
way cutting.  There  were  no  trees  or  bushes  about,  but  t:he 
green  pasture  along  the  bed  of  the  valley  wore  its  brightest 
colors  in  the  warm  sunlight,  and  far  up  on  the  hillsides  the 
browns  and  crimsons  of  the  heather  and  the  silver  gray 
of  the  rocks  trembled  in  the  white  haze  of  the  heat.  Over 
that  again  the  blue  sky,  as  still  and  silent  as  the  world  below. 

They  wandered  on,  content  with  idleness  and  a  fine  day. 
Mr.  Mackenzie  was  talking  with  some  little  loudne=;s,  so  that 
Lavender  might  hear,  of  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill,  and  was  anx- 
iois  to  convey  to  Ted  Ingram  that  a  wise  man,  who  is  respon- 
sible for  the  well-being  of  his  fellow  creatures,  will  study  all 
sides  of  all  questions,  however  dangerous.  Sheila  was  doing 
her  best  to  entertain  the  stranger,  and  he,  in  a  dream  of  his 
ov/n,  was  listening  to  the  infc^rmation  she  gave  him.  How 
much  of  it  did  he  carry  away?  He  was  told  that  the  gray 
goose  built  its  nest  in  the  rushes  at  the  edge  of  lakes;  Sheila 
knew  several  nests  in  Borva.  Sheila  also  caught  the  young 
of  the  wild  duck  when  the  mother  was  guiding  them  down 
the  hill-rivulets  to  the  sea.  She  had  tamed  many  of  them, 
catching  them  thus  before  they  could  fly.  The  names  of 
most  of  the  mountains  about  here  ended  in  bhal^  which  was 
a  Gaelic  corruption  of  the  Norse  fiall,  a  mountain.  There 
were  many  Norse  names  all  through  the  Lewis,  but  more  par- 
ticularly towards  the  Butt.     The  termination  host,  for  ex- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  59 

ample,  at  the  end  of  many  words,  meant  an  inhabited  place, 
but  she  fancied  host  was  Danish.  And  did  Mr.  Lavender 
know  of  the  legend  connected  with  the  air  of  Cha  till,  cha 
till  mi  tuille  ? 

Lavender  started  as  from  a  trance,  with  an  impression  that 
he  had  been  desperately  rude.  He  was  about  to  say  that 
the  gray  gosling  in  the  legend  could  not  speak  Scandinavian, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  Mackenzie  turning  and  ask- 
ing him  if  he  knew  from  what  ports  the  English  smacks 
hailed  that  came  up  hither  to  the  cod  and  the  ling  fishing  for 
a  couple  of  months  in  the  autumn.  The  young  man  said  he 
did  not  know.  There  were  many  fishermen  at  Brighton. 
And  when  the  King  of  Borva  turned  to  Ingram,  to  see  why 
he  was  shouting  with  laughter,  Sheila  suddenly  announced  to 
the  party  that  before  them  lay  tlie  great  Bay  of  Uig. 

It  was  certainly  a  strange  and  imp-essive  scene.  They 
stood  on  the  tup  of  a  lofty  range  of  hills,  and  underneath 
them  lay  a  vast  semicircle,  miles  in  exfen^,  of  gleaming  white 
sand,  that  had  in  by-gone  ages  been  washed  in  by  the  Atlantic. 
Into  this  vast  plain  of  silver  whiteness  the  sea,  entering  by  a 
somewhat  narrow  portal,  stretched  in  long  arms  of  a  pale 
blue.  Elsewhere  the  great  ere. cent  of  sand  was  surrounded 
by  a  low  line  of  rocky  hill,  showing  a  thousand  tints  of  olive- 
green  and  gray  and  hea'her  purple;  and  beyond  that  again 
rose  the  giant  bulk  of  Mealasabhal,  grown  pale  in  the  heat, 
into  the  Southern  sky.  There  was  not  a  ship  visible  along 
the  blue  plain  of  the  Atlantic.  The  only  human  habitation 
to  be  seen  in  the  strange  world  beneath  them  was  a  sohtary 
manse.  But  away  toward  the  summit  of  Mealasabhal  two 
specks  slowly  circled  in  the  air,  which  Shiela  thought  were 
eagles;  and  far  out  on  the  Western  sea,  lying  like  dusky 
whales  in  the  vague  blue,  were  the  Plada  Islands — the  remote 
and  unvisited  Seven  Hunters — whose  only  inhabitants  are 
certain  flocks  of  sheep  belonging  to  dwellers  on  the  main 
land  of  Lewis. 

The  travelers  sat  down  on  a  low  rock  of  gneiss  to  rest 
themselves,  and  then  and  there  did  the  King  of  Borva  recite 
his  grievances  and  rage  against  the  English  smacks.  Was  it 
not  enough  that  they  should  in  passing  steal  the  sheep,  but 
that  they  should  also,  in  mere  wantonness,  stalk  them  as 
deer,  wounding  therti  with  rifle  bullets,  and  leaving  them  to 
die  among  the  rocks.     Sheila  said  bravely  that  no  one  could 


60  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

tell  that  it  was  the  English  fishermen  who  did  that.  Why 
not  the  crews  of  merchant  vessels,  who  might  be  of  any  na^ 
tion?  It  was  unfair  to  charge  upon  any  body  of  men  such  a 
despicable  act,  when  there  was  no  proof  of  it  whatever. 

"Why,  Sheila,"  said  Ingram,  with  some  surprise,  "you 
never  doubted  before  that  it  was  the  English  smacks  that 
killed  the  sheep." 

Sheila  cast  down  her  eyes  and  said  nothing. 

Was  the  sinister  prophecy  of  John  the  Piper  to  be  fulfilled? 
Mackenzie  was  so  much  engaged  in  expounding  politics  to 
Ingram,  and  Sheila  was  so  proud  to  show  her  companion  all 
the  wonders  of  Uig,  that  when  they  returned  to  Mevaig  in 
the  evening  the  wind  had  altogether  gone  down  and  the  sea 
was  as  a  sea  of  glass.  But  if  John  the  Piper  had  been  ready 
to  foretell  for  Mackenzie  the  fate  of  Mackrimmon,  he  had 
taken  means  to  defeat  destiny  by  bringing  over  from  Borva- 
post  a  large  and  heavy  boat  pulled  by  six  rowers.  These 
were  not  strapping  young  fellows,  clad  in  the  best  blue  cloth 
to  be  got  in  Stornoway,  but  elderly  men,  gray,  wrinkled, 
weather-beaten  and  hard  of  face,  who  sat  stolidly  in  the  boat 
and  listened  with  a  sort  of  bovine  gaze  to  the  old  hunch- 
back's wicked  stories  and  jokes.  John  was  in  a  mischievous 
mood,  but  Lavender,  in  a  confidential  whisper,  informed 
Sheila,  that  her  father  would  speedily  be  avenged  on  the  in- 
considerate piper 

*'  Come,  men,  sing  us  a  song,  quick!"  said  Mackenzie,  as 
the  party  took  their  seats  in  the  stern  and  the  great  oars 
sp'ashed  into  the  sea  of  gold.  "  Look  sharp,  John,  and  no 
teffle  of  a  drowning  song!" 

In  a  shrill,  h-gh,  querulous  voice  the  piper,  who  was  him- 
self pulling  one  of  the  two  stroke  oars,  began  to  sing,  and 
then  the  men  behind  him  gathering  courage,  joined  in  an 
octave  lower,  their  voices  being  even  more  uncertain  and 
lugubrious  than  his  own.  These  poor  fishermen  had  not  had 
the  musical  education  of  Clan-Alpine's  warriors.  The  per- 
formance was  not  enlivening,  and  as  the  monotonous  and 
melancholy  sing-song  that  kept  time  to  the  oars  told  its  story 
in  Gaelic,  all  that  the  English  strangers  could  make  out  was 
an  occasional  reference  to  Jura  or  Scarba  or  Isla.  It  was, 
indeed,  the  song  of  an  exile  shut  up  in  "sea-worn  Mull," 
who  was  complaining  of  the  wearisome  look  of  the  neighbor- 
ing islands. 


A    TALE    OK    MOROCCO.  6l 

"But  why  do  you  sing  such  Gaelic  as  that,  John  ?"  said 
young  Lavender,  confidently.  "I  should  have  thought  a 
man  in  your  position — the  last  of  the  Hebridean  bards — wou'd 
have  known  the  classical  Gaelic.  Don't  ycu  know  the  classi- 
cal Gaelic?"' 

''  There  iss  only  the  wan  sort  of  Kfillic,  and  it  is  a  ferry  goot 
sort  of  Kallic,"  said  the  piper,  with  some  show  of  petulance. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  know  your  own 
tongue  ?  Do  you  not  know  what  the  greatest  of  all  the  bards 
wrote  about  your  own  island  ?  '  O  et  pnesidium  et  dulce 
decus  meum,  agus,  Tityre  tu  catulas  recubans  sub  tegmine 
Styornoway,  Arma  virumque  cano,  Macklyoda  et  Borvapost 
sub  tegmine  fac:i  ?'  " 

Not  only  John  the  Piper,  but  all  the  men  behind  him, 
began  to  look  amazed  and  sorely  troubled;  and  all  the  more 
so  that  Ingram — who  had  picked  up  more  Gaelic  words  than 
his  friend — came  to  his  assistance,  and  began  to  talk  to  him 
in  this  unknown  tongue.  They  heard  references  in  the  ccn- 
yersatjon  to  persons  and  things  with  which  they  were  familiar 
in  their  own  language,  but  still  accompanied  by  much  more 
they  could  not  understand. 

The  men  now  began  to  whisper  awe-stricken  questions  to 
each  other,  and  at  last  John  the  Piper  could  not  restrain 
his  curiosity.  "What  in  the  name  of  Kott  is  tat  sort  of 
Kall'c?"  he  asked,  with  some  look  of  fear  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  not  such  a  student,  John,"  said  Lavender,  care- 
lessly, "but  still  a  man  in  your  position  should  know  some- 
thing of  your  own  language.  A  bard,  a  poet,  and  not  know 
the  classical  form  of  your  own  tongue  !" 

"  Is  it  ta  Welsh  Kallic  ?"  cried  John,  in  desperation,  for 
he  knew  that  the  men  behind  him  would  carry  the  story  of 
his  ignorance  all  over  Borvapost, 

"The  Wehh  Gaelic?  No.  I  see  you  will  have  to  go  to 
school  again." 

"  There  iss  no  more  KaUic  in  ta  schools,"  said  the  piper, 
eagerly  seizing  the  excuse.  "  It  iss  Miss  Sheila;  she  will  hef 
put  away  all  ta  Kallic  from  ta  schools." 

"But  you  were  born  half  a  century  before  Miss  Sheila; 
how  is  it  that  you  neglected  to  learn  that  form  of  Gaelic  that 
has  been  sacred  to  the  use  of  the  bards  and  poets  since  the 
time  of  Ossian  ?" 

There  were  no  more  quips  or   cranks  for  John  the  Piper 


62  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

during  the  rest  of  the  pull  home.  TLe  wretched  man  re- 
lapsed into  a  moody  silence  and  worked  methodically  at  his 
our,  brooding  over  this  mysterious  language  of  which  he  had 
nor  even  heard.  As  for  Lavender,  he  turned  to  Mackenzie 
and  begged  to  know  what  he  thought  of  affairs  in  France. 

And  so  they  sailed  back  to  Borvapost  over  the  smooth 
water  that  lay  like  a  lake  of  gold.  Was  it  not  a  strange  sight 
to  see  the  Atlantic  one  vast  and  smooth  yellow  plain  under 
the  great  glow  of  saffron  that  spread  across  the  regions  of 
the  sunset?  It  was  a  world  of  light,  unbroken  but  by  the 
presence  of  a  heavy  coaster  that  had  anchored  in  the  Bay, 
and  that  sent  a  iong  line  of  trembling  black  down  on  the 
perfect  mirror  of  the  sea.  As  they  got  near  the  shore,  the 
portions  that  were  in  shadow  showed  with  a  strange  distinct- 
ness the  dark  green  of  the  pasture  and  the  sharp  outlines  of 
the  rocks;  ana  there  was  a  cold  scent  of  sea-weed  in  the 
evening  air.  The  six  heavy  oars  plashed  into  the  smooth 
bay.  Thfc  big  boat  was  moored  to  the  quay,  and  its  passen- 
gers landed  once  more  in  Borva.  And  when  th'ey  turned, 
on  their  way  home,  to  look  from  the  brow  of  the  hill,  on 
which  Sheila  haa  placed  a  garden  seat,  lo!  all  the  West  was 
on  fire,  the  mountains  in  the  South  had  grown  dark  on  their 
Eastern  side,  ana  the  plain  of  the  sea  was  like  a  lake  of 
blood,  with  the  heavy  hull  and  masts  of  the  coaster  grown 
large  and  solemn  and  distant.  There  was  scarcely  a  lipple 
around  the  rocks  at  their  feet  to  break  the  stillness  of  the 
approaching  twilight. 

So  another  day  had  passed,  devoid  of  adventure  or  inci- 
dent. Lavender  had  not  rescued  his  wonderful  princess 
from  an  angry  sea,  nor  had  he  shown  prowess  in  slaying  a 
dozen  stags,  nor  in  any  way  distinguished  himself.  To  all 
outward  appearance  the  relations  of  the  party  were  the  same 
at  night  as  they  had  been  in  the  morning.  But  the  greatest 
crises  of  life  steal  on  us  imperceptibly,  and  have  some- 
times occurred  and  wound  us  in  their  consequences  before 
we  know.  Tue  memorable  things  in  a  man's  career  are  not 
always  marked  by  some  sharp  convulsion.  The  youth  does 
not  necessarily  marry  the  girl  whom  he  happens  to  fish  out  of 
a  mill-pond;  his  life  may  be  far  more  definitely  shaped  for 
him  at  a  prosaic  dinner-table,  where  he  fancies  he  is  only 
thinking  of  the  wines.  We  are  indeed  but  as  children 
seated  on  the  shore,  watching  the   ripples  ihat  come  on  to 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  63 

our  feet;  and  while  the  ripples  unceasingly  repeat  them- 
selves, and  while  the  hour  that  passes  is  but  as  the  hour 
before  it,  constellation  after  constellation  has  gone  by  over 
our  heads  unheeded,  and  we  wake  with  a  start  to  find  our- 
Beives  in  a  new  day,  with  all  our  former  life  cut  off  from  us 
and  become  as  a  dream. 

CHAPTER  V. 

SHEILA   SINGS. 

A  knocking  at  Ingram's  door. 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter?" 

*'  Will  ye  be  goin'  to  ta  fishin',  Mr.  Ingram  ?" 

"is  that  you,  Duncan?  How  the  devil  have  you  got 
over  from  Mevaig  at  this  hour  of  the  morning  ?" 

"  Oh,  there  wass  a  bit  breeze  tis  morning,  and  I  hef 
prought  over  ta  Maighdean-mhara.  And  there  iss  a  very 
good  ripple  on  ta  water,  if  you  will  tak  ta  other  gentleman 
to  try  for  ta  salmon." 

"  All  right.  Hammer  at  his  door  until  he  gets  up.  I  shall 
be  ready  in  ten  minute?." 

About  half  an  hour  thereafter  the  two  young  men  were 
standing  at  the  front  of  Mackenzie's  house  examining  the 
enormous  rod  that  Duncan  had  placed  against  the  porch. 
It  was  still  early  morning,  and  there  was  a  cold  wind  blowing 
in  from  the  sea,  but  there  was  not  a  speck  of  cloud  in  the 
sky,  and  the  day  promised  to  be  hot.  The  plain  of  the  At- 
lantic was  no  longer  a  sheet  of  glass;  it  was  rough  and  gray, 
and  far  oat  an  occasional  quiver  of  white  showed  where  a 
wave  was  hissing  over.  There  was  not  much  of  a  sea  on,  but 
the  heavy  wash  of  the  water  around  the  rocks  and  sandy 
bays  could  be  distinctly  heard  in  the  silence  of  the  morning. 

And  what  was  this  moving  object  down  there  by  the  shore 
where  the  Maighdean-mhara  lay  at  anchor?  Both  the  young 
men  at  once  recognized  the  glimmer  of  the  small  while 
feather  and  the  tightly-fitting  blue  dress  of  the  sea-princess. 

"  Why,  there  is  Sheila  1"  cried  Ingram.  "  What  in  all 
the  vvond  is  she  about  at  such  an  hour  ?" 

At  this  moment  Duncan  came  out  with  a  book  of  flies  in 
his  hand,  and  he  said  in  rather  a  petulant  way,  "  And  it  iss 
no  wonder  Miss  Sh.-iU  will  be  out.    And  it  was  Miss  Sheila 


04  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

herself  will  tell  me  lo  see  if  you  will  go  to  ta  White  Water  and 
try  for  a  salmon." 

"  And  she  is  bringing  up  something  from  the  boat;  I  must 
go  and  carry  it  for  her,"  said  Lavender,  making  down  the 
path  to  the  shore  with  the  speed  of  a  deer. 

When  Sheila  and  he  came  up  the  hill,  there  was  a  fine  color 
in  the  girl's  face  from  her  morning's  exertions,  but  she  was 
n  it  disposed  to  po  in-doors  to  rest.  On  the  contrary,  sl.e 
■vva.  Boon  engaged  in  helping  Mairi  to  bring  in  some  crffee 
10  the  parlor,  while  Duncan  cut  slices  of  h?m  and  cold  b  ef 
big  enough  to  have  provisioned  a  fishing-boat  bound  for 
Caithness.  Sheila  had  had  her  breakfast;  so  she  devoted  all 
her  lime  to  waiting  upon  her  guests,  until  Lavender  couM 
scarcely  eat  through  the  embarrassment  produced  by  her  noble 
servitude.  Ingram  was  not  so  sensitive,  and  made  a  very 
good  meal  indeed. 

"  Where's  your  father,  Sheila?"  said  Ingram,  when  the  last 
of  thdr  preparations  had  been  made  and  they  were  about  to 
start  for  the  river      "  Isn't  1  e  up  >et?" 

"My  father?"  said  the  girl,  with  the  least  possible  eleva- 
tion of  her  eyebrows — '  he  will  be  down  at  Borvapost  an 
hour  ago.  And  1  hope  that  John  the  Piper  w  11  not  sce  him 
this  morning.  But  we  must  make  haste,  Mr.  Ingram,  for  the 
wind  will  fall  when  the  sun  ge^s  stronger,  and  then  your 
friend  will  have  no  more  of  the  fishing." 

So  they  set  out,  and  Ingram  put  Sheila's  hand  on  his  arm, 
and  took  her  along  with  him  in  that  fashion,  while  the  tall 
gillie  walked  behind  with  Lavender,  who  was  or  was  not 
pleased  with  the  arrangement.  The  young  man,  indeed,  was 
a  trifle  silent,  but  Duncan  was  in  an  amiable  and  communi- 
cative mood,  and  passed  the  time  in  tellinghim  stories  of  the 
salmon  he  h.ad  caught,  and  of  the  people  who  had  tried  to  catch 
them  and  failed.  Sheila  and  Ingram  certainly  went  a  good 
pice  up  the  hill  and  around  the  summit  of  it,  and  down 
again  into  the  valley  of  the  White  Water.  The  light  step  of 
the  girl  seemed  to  be  as  fuU  of  spring  as  the  heather  en 
which  she  trod;  and  as  for  her  feet  getting  wet,  the  dcw 
must  have  soaked  them  long  ago.  She  was  in  the  bnghter,t 
of  spirits.  Lavender  c  mid  hear  her  laughing  in  alow,  pleased 
fashion,  and  then  presently  her  head  would  be  turned  up  to- 
ward her  companion,  and  all  the  light  of  somehumorous  an- 
ecdote would -appear  in  her  face  and  in  her  eloquent  eyes, 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  65 

and  it  would  be  Ingram's  turn  to  break  out  into  one  of  those 
stiort,  abrupt  laughs  that  had  something  sardonic  in  them. 

But  hark !  From  the  other  side  of  the  valley  comes  anoth- 
er sound,  the  faint  and  distant  skirl  of  the  pipes,  and  yonder 
is  the  white-haired  hunchback,  a  mere  speck  in  a  waste  of 
brown  and  green  morass.  What  is  he  playing  to  himself  now? 

*'  He  is  a  foolish  fellow,  that  John,"  said  the  tall  keeper, 
'  f®r  if  he  comes  down  to  Borvapost  this  morning,  it  iss  Mr. 
Mackenzie  will  fling  his  pipes  in  ta  sea,  and  he  will  haf  to  go 
away  andwork  in  ta  steamboat.  He  iss  a  very  foolish  fellow; 
and  it  wass  him  tat  wass  goin'  in  ta  steamboat  before,  and  he 
went  to  a  tailor  in  Styornoway,  and  he  said  to  him,  *  I  want  a 
pair  o'  troosers.'  And  the  tailor  said  to  him,  *  What  sort  o' 
troosers  iss  it  you  will  want?'  And  he  said  to  him,  'I  want 
a  pair  o'  troosers  f„r  a  steamboat.'  A  pair  o'  troosers  for  a 
steamboat! — he  is  a  teffle  of  a  foolish  fellow.  And  it  wass 
him  that  went  in  ta  steamboat  with  a  lot  o'  freens  o'  his,  that 
wass  a  goin'  to  Skye  to  a  big  weddin'  there;  and  it  wass  a 
very  bad  passao^e,  and  when  tey  got  into  Portree,  the  captain 
said  to  him,  *  John,  where  iss  all  your  freens  that  tey  do  not 
come  ashore  ? '  And  he  said  to  him, '  I  hef  peen  down  below, 
sir,  and  four-thirds  o'  ta  whole  o'  them  are  a'  half-tro  jnded 
and  sick  and  tead.'  Four-thirds  o'  ta  whole  o'  them!  And  he 
iss  just  the  ferry  man  to  laugh  at  every  other  pody  when  it  iss 
a  mistake  you  will  make  in  ta  English." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Lavender,  "you  found  it  rather  difficult 
to  learn  good  English  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  hefna  got  ta  good  English  yet.  But  Miss 
Sheila  she  has  put  away  all  the  Gaelic  from  the  schools,  and 
the  young  ones  they  will  learn  more  of  ta  good  English  after 
that." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  as  much  Gaelic  as  you  know  English," 
said  the  young  man. 

"  Oh,  you  will  soon  learn.  It  iss  ferry  easy  if  you  will  only 
stay  in  ta  island.'' 

"It  would  take  me  several  months  to  pick  it  up,  I  sup- 
pose ?" 

"  Oh,  yes — nine  or  six — that  will  do,''  said  .Duncan. 
"  You  will  begin  to  learn  ta  names  o'  ta  Islands  and  ta  places. 
There  now,  as  far  as  you  can  see  is  ta  Seann  Bheinn ;  and  it 
means  ta  old  hill.  And  there  is  a  rock  there  j  it  is  Stac-nan- 
Balg— " 


66  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

Here  Duncan  looked  rather  perplexed, 

"  Yes,"  said  Lavender;  "  what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"It  means — it  means,"  said  Duncan,  in  still  greater  per- 
plexity, and  getting  a  little  impatient,  "it  means — stae,  tat 
iss  a  steep  rock ;  Stac-nan-Balg — it  means — well,  sir,  His  ower 
deep  for  ta  English.'''' 

The  tone  of  mortification  in  which  Duncan  uttered  these 
words  warned  Lavender  that  his  philological  studies  might 
as  well  cease;  and  indeed  cm.'i:-.^  and  Ingram  had  by  this 
time  reached  the  banks  of  the  White  Water,  and  were  wait- 
ing Duncan  and  his  majestic  rod. 

It  was  much  too  bright  and  pleasant  a  morning  for  good 
fishing,  but  there  was  a  fair  ripple  on  the  pools  of  the  stream 
where  ever  and  anon  a  salmon  fresh  run  from  the  sea  would 
leap  into  the  air,  showing  a  gleaming  curve  of  silver  to  the 
sunlight.  The  splash  of  tlie  big  fish  seemed  an  invitation, 
and  Duncan  was  all  anxiety  to  teach  the  stranger,  who,  as  he 
fancied,  knew  nothing  about  throwing  a  fly.  Ingram  lay 
down  on  a  rock  some  little  distance  back  from  the  banks, 
and  put  his  hands  beneath  his  head  and  watched  the  opera- 
tions going  forward.  But  was  it  really  Duncan  who  was  to 
teach  the  stranger?  It  was  Sheila  who  picked  out  flies  for 
him.  It  was  Sheila  who  held  the  rod  while  he  put  them  on 
the  line.  It  was  Shelia  who  told  where  the  bigger  salmon 
usually  lay — under  the  opposite  bank  of  the  broad  and  almost 
lake-like  pool  into  which  the  small  but  rapid  White  Water 
came  tumbling  and  foaming  down  its  narrow  channel  of 
rocks  and  stones. 

Then  Sheila  waited  to  see  her  pupil  begin.  He  had  evi- 
dently a  little  difficulty  about  the  big  double-handed  rod,  a 
somewhat  more  formidable  engine  of  destruction  than  the 
supple  little  thing  with  which  he  had  whipped  the  streams  of 
Devonshire  and  Cornwall. 

The  first  cast  sent  both  flies  and  a  lump  of  line  tumbling 
on  to  the  pool,  and  would  have  driven  the  boldest  of  salmon 
out  of  its  wits.  The  second  pretty  nearly  took  a  piece  out  of 
Ingram's  ear,  and  made  him  shift  his  quarters  with  rapidity. 
Duncan  gave  him  up  in  despair.  The  third  cast  dropped 
both  flies  with  tlie  lightness  of  a  feather  in  the  running 
waters  of  the  other  side  of  the  pool;  and  the  next  second 
there  was  a  slight  wave  along  the  surface,  a  dexterous  jerk 
with  the  butt,  and  presently  the  line  was  whirled  out  into  the 


i 


A    PRIN'CESS   OF    THULE.  67 

middle  of  the  pool,  running  rapidly  off  the  reel  from  the 
straining  rod. 

"  Plenty  o'  line,  sir,  plenty  o'  line!"  shouted  Duncan,  in 
a  wild  fever  of  anxiety,  for  the  fish  had  plunged  suddenly. 

Ingram  had  come  running  down  to  the  bank.  Sheila  was 
all  excitement  and  interest  as  she  stood  and  watched  every 
slackening  or  tightening  of  the  line  as  the  fish  went  up  the 
pool  and  down  the  pool,  and  crossed  the  current  in  his  efforts 
to  escape.  The  only  self-possessed  person,  indeed,  was 
Lavender  himself,  who  presently  said,  "Miss  Mackenzie, 
won't  you  take  the  rod  now  and  have  the  honor  of  landing 
him?     I  don't  think  he  will  show  much  more  fight." 

At  this  moment,  however,  the  line  slackened  suddenly, 
and  the  fish  threw  himself  clean  out  of  the  water,  turning  a 
complete  somersault.  It  was  a  dangerous  moment,  but  the 
captive  was  well  hooked,  and  in  his  next  plunge  Lavender 
was  admonished  by  Duncan  to  keep  a  good  strain  on  him. 

"i  will  take  the  second  one,"  Sheila  promised,  "if  you 
like;  but  you  must  surely  land  your  first  salmon  yourself." 

I  suppose  nobody  but  a  fisherman  can  understand  the 
generosity  of  the  offer  made  by  the  young  man.  To  have 
hooked  your  first  salmon — to  have  its  first  wild  rushes  and 
plunges  safely  over — and  to  offer  to  another  the  delight  of 
bringing  him  victoriously  to  bank!  But  Sheila  knew.  And 
what  could  have  surpassed  the  cleverness  with  which  he  had 
hooked  the  fish,  and  the  coolness  and  courage  he  showed 
throughout  the  playing  of  hira,  except  thio  more  than  royal 
offer  on  the  part  of  the  young  hero? 

The  fish  was  losing  strength.  All  the  line  had  been  got  in, 
although  the  forefinger  of  the  fisherman  felt  the  pulse  of  his 
cap.ive,  as  it  were,  ready  f^r  any  expiring  plunge.  They 
caught  occasional  glimpses  of  a  large  white  body  gliding 
through  the  ruddy-brown  water.  Duncan  was  down  on  his 
knees  more  than  once,  with  the  landing-net  in  his  hand,  but 
again  and  again  the  big  fish  would  sheer  off,  with  just  such 
indications  of  power  as  to  make  his  conqueror  cautious.  At 
length  he  v/as  guided  slowly  in  to  the  bank.  Behind  him  the 
landing-net  was  gently  Itt  into  the  water — then  a  quick  for- 
ward movement,  and  a  fourteen  pounder  was  scooped  up  and 
flung  upon  the  bank,  landing-net  and  all.  "Hurrah!"  cried 
Ingram,  and  Lavender  blushed  like  a  school-girl;  and  Sheila, 
quite  naturally  and  without  thinking,  shook  hands  with  hira 


53  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

and  said,  '•!  congratulate  you;"  and  there  was  more  con- 
gratulation  in  her  glad  eyes  than  in  that  simple  little  gesture. 
It  was  a  good  beginning,  and  of  course  the  young  man  was 
very  much  pleased  to  show  Sheila  that  he  was  no  mere  iily- 
fingered  idler  about  town.  H-  buckled  to  his  work  in  earnest. 
Widi  a  few  more  casts  he  soon  got  into  the  way  of  managing 
the  big  rod;  and  every  time  the  flies  fell  lightly  on  the  other 
side  of  the  pool,  to  be  dragged  with  gentle  jerks  across  the 
foaming  current  of  the  stream.  Ingram  went  back  to  his 
couch  on  the  rock.  He  lay  and  watched  the  monotonous 
flinginr  back  of  the  long  rod,  the  light  whistle  of  the  line 
through  the  air,  and  the  careful  manipulation  of  the  flies 
throucrh  the  water.  Or  was  it  something  else  that  he  was: 
watchmg— something  that  awakened  in  his  mmd  a  sudden 
sense  of  surprise  and  fear,  and  a  new  and  strange  conscious- 
ntss  that  he  had  been  guiltily  remiss  ? 

tSi  eila  was  wholly  pre-occupied  with  her  companion  and  his 
eff  r.s.  He  had  had  one  or  two  rises,  but  had  struck  either 
too  soon  or  too  la^e,  until  at  last  there  was  a  terrific 
plunge  and  rush,  and  again  the  line  wa;  whirled  out.  But 
D'lnLan  did  n  t  like  the  luok  of  it  somehow.  The  fish  had 
been  sheering  off  when  it  was  hooked,  and  the  deep  plunge 
at  the  outset  was  ugly. 

"Now  will  you  take  the  rod?"  said  Lavender  to  bheila. 
But  before  she  could  answer  the  fish  had  come  rushing  up 
to  the  surface,  and  had  thrown  itself  out  c  f  ih  ■  v,-aitr,  so  that 
it  fell  on  the  opposite  bank.  It  was  a  splend  d  annual,  and 
Duncan,  despite  his  doubts,  called  out  to  Lavender  to  slacken 
his  ho'd.  There  was  another  spring  into  the  air,  the  fish  fell 
with  a  splash  into  the  water,  and  the  line  was  flying  help- 
lessly into  the  air  v/ilh  the  two  fl  es  floating  al  out. 

'•Ay,"  said  Duncan,  with  a  sigh,  "it  wa.^s  foul-hooked. 
It  wass  no  chance  of  catching  him  whatever," 

Lavender  was  most  successful  next  time,  however,  with  a 
pretty  little  grilse  of  about  half  a  dozen  pounds,  that  seemed 
to  have  in  him  the  spirit  and  fight  of  a  dozen  salmon.  How 
he  rushed  and  struggled,  how  be  plunged  and  sulked,  how 
he  burrowed  along  the  banks,  and  th(rn  ran  out  to  the  middie 
of  the  pool,  and  then  threw  himself  into  the  air,  with  the 
line  apparently,  but  not  really,  doubling  up  under  him.  All 
these  things  can  only  be  understood  by  the  fisherman  who 
has  played  in  a  Highland  stream  a  wild  and  powerful  little 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE,  69 

grisle  fresh  in  from  the  salt  water.  And  it  was  Sheila  who 
held  him  captive,  who  humored  him  when  he  sulked,  and 
gently  guided  him  away  from  dangerous  places,  and  kept 
him  well  in  hand  when  he  tried  to  cross  the  curr.  nt,  until  at 
last,  all  the  fierceness  gone  out  of  him,  he  let  him; elf  le  ten- 
derly inveigled  into  the  side  of  the  pool,  where  Duncan,  by 
a  dexterous  movement,  surrounded  him  with  network  and 
placed  h's  shining  body  among  the  bright  green  grass. 

But  In  .(ram  was  not  so  overjoyed  this  time.  He  compli- 
menci-d  S  leila  in  a  friendly  way,  but  he  was  rather  grave, 
and  obviously  did  not  care  for  this  business  of  fi^hng.  And 
so  Sheila,  fancying  that  he  was  rather  duil  becau>e  he  was 
not  joining  in  the  sport,  proposed  tnst  he  should  walk  back 
to  the  house  with  her,  leaving  Mr.  Lavender  with  Duncan. 
And  Ingram  was  quite  ready  to  do  so. 

But  Lavender  protested  that  he  cared  very  little  for  sal- 
mon-fishing. He  suggested  that  they  should  all  go  back  to- 
gether. I'he  sun  was  killing  the  wind,  and  soon  the  pools 
would  be  as  clear  as  glass.  Had  they  not  better  try  in  the 
afternoon,  when,  perhaps,  the  breeze  would  freshen  ?  And 
so  ihey  walked  back  to  the  house. 

On  the  garden-seat  a  book  lay  open.  It  was  Mr.  Mill's 
"  Essay  on  Liberty,"  and  it  had  evidently  been  left  there  by 
Mr.  Mackenzie,  perhaps — who  knows? — to  hint  to  his  friends 
from  the  South  that  he  was  familiar  with  the  problems  of  the 
age.  Lavender  winked  to  Ingram,  but  somehow  his  com- 
panion seemed  in  no  humcr  for  a  joke. 

They  had  luncheon  then, and  after  luncheon  Ingram  touched 
Lavender  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  '•'  1  want  to  have  a  word 
with  you  privately.     Let's  walk  down  to  the  sb.ore." 

And  so  they  did;  and  when  they  had  got  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  hou^e,  Ingram  said:  "  Look  here,  Lavender. 
I  mean  to  be  frank  with  you.  I  don't  think  it  fair  that  you 
should  try  to  drag  Sheila  Mackenzie  into  a  flirtation.  I 
knew  you  would  fall  in  love  with  her.  For  a  week  or  two, 
that  does  not  matter — it  harii-s  no  one.  But  I  never  thought 
of  the  chance  of  her  being  led  into  such  a  thing,  for  what  is 
a  mere  passing  amusement  to  you  would  be  a  very  serious 
thing  to  her." 

"Weil?" 

"  Well  ?  Is  not  that  enough  ?  Do  you  think  it  fair  to 
take  advantage  of  this  girl's  innocence  of  the  world  ?" 


70 


A  PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 


Lavender  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  path,  and  said, 
somewhat  stififly,  "This  may  be  as  well  settled  at  once. 
You  have  talked  ci  flirtation  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  may  regard  it  as  you  please,  but  before  I  leave  this 
island  I  mean  to  ask  Sheila  Mackenzie  to  be  my  wife." 

"Why,  you  are  mad!''  cried  Ingram,  amazed  to  see  that 
the  young  man  was  perfectly  serious. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders, 

'<  Do  you  mean  to  say,''  continued  Ingram,  "that  even 
supposing  Sheila  would  ccnse-,t— which  is  impossible— you 
would  try  to  take  away  that  gi'l  from  her  father?" 

"  Girls  must  leave  their  iathers  sometime  or  other,"  said 
Lavender,  somewhat  sullenly. 

"  Not  unless  they  are  asked." 

"  Oh,  well,  they  are  sure  to  be  asked,  and  they  are  sure  to 
go.  If  their  mothers  had  not  done  so  before  them,  where 
would  they  be  ?  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  about  it, 
and  argue  it  out  as  a  theory,  but  I  know  what  the  facts  of  the 
case  aie,  and  what  any  man  in  my  position  would  do;  and  I 
know  that  I  am  careless  of  any  consequences,  so  long  as  I  can 
secure  her  for  my  wife." 

"  Apparently  you  are — careless  of  any  consequences  to 
herself  or  those  about  her." 

"  But  what  is  your  objection,  Ingram  ?"  said  the  young 
man,  suddenly  abandoning  his  defiant  manner;  "  v,'by  should 
you  object?  Do  you  think  I  would  make  a  bad  husband  to 
the  wc.man  I  married?" 

*'  i  believe  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  believe  you  would  make 
a  very  good  husband,  if  you  were  to  marry  a  woman  wiiom 
you  kuwW  something  about,  and  whom  you  had  really  learned 
to  love  and  respect  through  your  knowledge  of  her.  I  tell 
you,  you  know  nothing  about  Sheila  Mackenzie  as  yet.  If 
you  were  to  marry  her  to-morrow,  you  v-^ould  discover  in  six 
montlis  she  was  a  woman  wholly  different  from  what  you  had 
experted." 

♦'  Very  well,  then,"  said  Lavender,  with  an  air  of  triumph  ; 
"you  can't  deny  this  ;  you  think  so  much  of  her  that  the 
real  woman  I  would  discover  must  be  better  than  the  one  I 
imagine  ;  and  so  y(  u  dun't  expect  I  shall  be  disappointed?" 

''If  you  marry  Sheila  Mackenzie  you  will  be  disappointed 
— not  through  her  fault,  b  it  your  own.  Why,  a  more  pre- 
posterous notion   never  entered   a  nian's   head  !     She  knows 


A    PRiNCfSS    OF    THULE,  -j  j 

r.o'h'ng  of  your  friends  or  your  ways  of  life  ;  you  know  no- 
thing of  hers.  She  would  be  miserable  in  London,  even  if 
you  could  persuade  her  father  to  go  with  her,  which  is  the 
most  unlikely  thing  in  the  world.  Do  give  up  this  foolish 
idea,  like  a  good  fellow,  and  do  it  before  She. la  is  drago-ed 
into  a  flirtation  that  may  have  the  most  serious  consequences 
to  her." 

Lavender  would  not  promise,  but  all  that  afternoon  various 
resolutions  and  emotions  were  struggling  within  him  for 
mastery,  insr  much  that  Duncan  could  not  understand  the 
blundering  way  m  which  he  whipped  the  pools.  Mackenzie, 
Sheila  and  Ingram  had  gone  off  to  pay  a  visit  to  an  old  crone 
who  lived  in  a  neighboring  island,  and  in  whom  Ingram  had 
been  much  interested  a  few  yeais  before  ;  so  that  Lavender 
had  an  opportunity  of  practicing  the  art  of  salmon-fishing 
wiihout  interruption?.  But  all  the  skill  he  had  shown  in  the 
morning  seemed  to  have  deserted  him  ;  and  at  last  he  gave 
the  rod  to  Duncan,  and  sitting  down  on  a  top-coat  flung  on 
the  wet  heather,  indole.iily  watched  the  gillie's  operations. 

Should  he  at  once  fly  from  temptation  and  return  to  Lon- 
don? Would  it  not  be  heroic  to  leave  this  old  man  in  pos- 
session of  his  only  daughter?  Shei.'a  would  never  know  of 
the  sacrifice,  but  what  of  that?  It  might  be  for  her  happiness 
that  he  should  go. 

But  when  a  young  man  is  in  love,  or  fancies  himself  in 
love,  wit  1  a  young  girl,  it  is  hard  for  him  to  persuade  him- 
self that  anybody  else  can  make  her  as  happy  as  he  might. 
Who  could  be  so  tender  to  her.  so  watchful  over  her,  as  him- 
self ?  He  does  not  reflect  that  her  parents  have  had  the  ex- 
perience of  years  in  taking  care  of  her,  while  he  would  be  a 
mere  novice  at  the  business.  The  pleasure  with  which  he 
regards  the  prospect  of  being  constantly  with  her  he  trans- 
fers to  her,  and  she  seems  to  demand  it  of  him  as  a  duty  that 
he  should  confer  upon  her  this  new  happiness. 

Lavender  met  Sneila  in  the  evening,  and  he  was  yet  un--  - 
cided.  Sometimes  he  fancied,  when  their  eyes  met  unex- 
pectedly, that  there  was  something  wustful  as  well  as  friendly 
in  her  look;  was  she,  too,  dreaming  of  the  vague  possibilities 
of  the  future?  This  was  strange,  too,  that  a'tcr  each  of  these 
little  chance  reveries  she  seemed  to  be  m^ved  by  a  resolution 
to  be  more  than  usually  affectionate  toward  her  father,  and 
would  go  around  the  table  and  place  her  hand  on  his  shoulder 


72 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 


and  ta'k  to  him.  Perhaps  these  things  were  but  delusions 
begotten  of  his  own  imaginings,  but  the  possibility  of  their 
being  real  agitated  him  not  a  little,  and  he  scarcely  dared  to 
think  what  might  follow. 

That  evening  Sheila  sang,  and  all  his  half-formed  resolu- 
tions vanished  into  air.  He  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  curious, 
dimly-lit  and  old-fashioned  chamber,  and,  lying  back  in  the 
chair,  abandoned  himself  to  dreams  as  Sheila  sang  the  mys- 
tic songs  of  the  Northern  coast.  There  was  something 
strangely  suggestive  of  the  sea  in  the  room  itself,  ana  all  her 
songs  were  of  the  sea.  It  was  a  smaller  room  than  the  large 
apartment  in  which  they  had  dined,  and  it  was  filled  with 
curiosities  from  distant  shorts,  and  with  the  strange  captures 
made  by  the  Borva  fishermen.  Everywhere,  too,  were  the 
trophies  of  Mackenzie's  skill  with  rod  and  rifle.  Deer's 
horns"  sealskins,  stuffed  bird?,  salmon  in  glass  cases,  masses 
of  coral,  enormous  shells,  and  a  thousand  similar  things  made 
the  little  drawing-room  a  sort  of  grotto;  but  it  was  a  grotto 
within  hearing  of  the  sound  of  the  sea,  and  there  was  no 
musty  at mospnere  in  a  room  that  was  open  all  day  to  the  cold 
winds  of  the  Atlantic. 

With  a  smoking  tumbler  of  whisky  and  w-ter  before  him, 
the  King  of  Borva  sat  at  the  table,  poring  over  a  large  volume 
containmg  plans  for  bridges.  Ingram  was  seated  at  the  piano 
in  coninual  consultation  wiih  Sheila  about  her  songs. 
Lavendvir,  in  the  dusky  corner,  lay  and  listened,  with  all 
sorts  of  fancies  crowding  in  upon  him  as  S.rei'a  sang  of  the 
sad  and  wild  legends  of  her  home.  Was  it  by  chance,  then, 
he  asked  himself,  that  these  songs  seemed  so  frequently  to  be 
the  lamentation  of  a  Highland  girl  for  a  fair-haired  lover  be- 
yond the  sea?  First  of  all,  she  sang  the  "  Wail  of  Duneve- 
gan,"and  how  strangely  her  voice  tnrilled  with  the  sadness 
of  the  song! — 

Mom,  oh  mantle  thy  smiles  of  gladness! 
Is'ight,  oh  come  with  thy  clouds  of  sadness! 
Eartli,  thy  pleasures  to  me  seem  madness! 
Macleod,  my  leal  love,  since  thou  art  gone. 

Dune  vegan,  oh!  Dunevegan,  oh! 

Dunevegan!  Dunevegan! 

It  was  as  in  a  dream  that  he  heard  Ingram  talking  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact way  about  the  airs,  and  asking  the  meaning  of 
certain  lines  of  Gaelic  to  compare  them  with  the  stiff  and 
old-fashioned  phrases  of  the   translation.     Surely  this  gir) 


A     I'RINCESS     OF     THULE.  73 

must  have  sat  by  the  shore  and  waited  for  her  absent  lover, 
or  how  could  she  sing  with  such  feeling? — 

Say,  my  love,  why  didst  thou  tarry 

Far  over  the  deep  sea  ? 
Knew'st  thou  not  my  heart  was  weary, 
Heard'st  thou  not  how  I  sighed  for  thee? 
Did  no  light  wind  bear  my  wild  despair 

Far  over  the  deep  sea? 

He  could  imagine  that  beautiful  face  grown  pale  and  wild 
witii  anguish.  And  then  some  day,  as  she  went  along  the 
lonely  island,  with  all  the  light  of  hope  gone  out  of  her  eyes, 
and  with  no  more  wistful  glances  cast  across  the  desolate 
sea,  might  not  the  fair-haired  lover  come  at  last,  and  leap 
ashore  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  and  hide  the  wonder-stricken 
eyes  and  the  glad  face  in  his  bosom?  But  Sheila  sang  of  no 
such  meeting.  The  girl  was  always  alone,  her  lover  gone 
away  from  her  across  the  sea  or  into  the  wilds. 

Oh  long  on  the  mountain  he  tarries,  he  tarries: 
Why  tarries  the  youth  with  the  bright  yellow  hair? 

Oh  long  on  the  mountain  he  tarries,  he  tarries: 
Why  seeks  he  the  hill  when  his  fl  jck  is  not  there  ? 

That  was  what  he  heard  her  sing,  until  it  seemed  to  him  that 
her  singing  was  a  cry  to  be  taken  away  from  these  melan- 
choly surroundings  of  sea  and  shore,  and  carried  to  the 
stcure  and  comfortable  South,  to  be  cherished  and  tended 
and  loved.  Why  should  this  girl  be  left  to  live  a  cruel  life 
up  in  these  wilds,  and  to  go  through  this  world  without 
knowing  anything  of  the  happy  existence  that  might  have 
been  hers  ?  It  was  well  for  harder  and  stronger  natures  to 
withstand  the  buffetings  of  wind  and  rain,  and  be  indifferent 
to  the  melancholy  influences  of  the  lonely  sea  and  the  dark- 
ness of  the  Northern  winters;  but  for  her — for  this  beautiful, 
sensitive,  tender-hearled  giil — surely  some  other  and  gentler 
fate  was  in  store.  What  he,  iit  lea<t,  could  do,  he  would. 
He  would  lay  his  life  at  her  feet;  and  if  she  chose  to  go  away 
from  this  bleak  and  cruel  home  to  the  sunnier  South,  would 
not  he  devote  himself,  as  never  a  man  had  given  himself  to  a 
woman  before,  to  the  constant  duty  of  enriching  her  life 
with  all  the  treasures  of  admiration  and  respect  and  love? 

It  was  getting  late,  and  Sheila  retired.  As  she  bade  "  good 
night ''  to  him.  Lavender  fancied  htr  manner  was  a  little  less 
frank  toward  him  than  usual,  and  her  eyes  were  cast  down. 
All  the  light  of  the  room  seemed  to  go  with  her  when  she 
went. 

Mack-nzie  mixed  another  tumbler  of  toddy,  and  began  to 


IJi,  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

expound  to  Ingram  his  views  upon  deer-forests  and  sheep- 
farms.  Ingram  lit  a  cigar,  stretched  out  his  legs  and  pro- 
ceeded to  listen  with  much  complacent  attention.  As  for 
Lavender,  he  sat  awhile,  hearing  vaguely  the  sounds  of  his 
companions'  voices,  and  then,  saying  he  was  a  trifle  tired,  he 
left  and  went  to  his  own  room.  The  moon  was  then  clearly 
shiumg  over  Suainabhal,  and  a  pathway  of  glimmering  light 
lay  across  Loch  Roag. 

He  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  had  resolved  to  ask 
Sheila  Mackenzie  to  be  his  wife,  and  a  thousand  conjectures 
as  to  the  future  were  floating  about  his  imagination.  In  the 
first  place,  would  she  listen  to  his  prayer?  She  knew  no- 
thing cfhim  beyond  what  she  might  have  heard' from  Ingram. 
He  had  had  no  opportunity,  during  their  friendly  talking,  of 
revealing  to  her  what  he  thought  of  herself;  but  might  she 
not  have  guessed  it?  Then  her  father — what  action  might 
not  this  determined  old  man  take  in  the  matter?  Would 
his  love  for  his  daughter  prompt  him  to  consider  her  happi- 
ness alone? 

All  these  things,  however,  were  mere  prel  minaries,  and 
the  imagination  ot  the  young  man  soon  ovcrleapt  them.  He 
began  to  draw  pictures  of  Sheila  as  his  wife  in  their  London 
home,  among  his  friends,  at  Hastings,  at  Ascot,  in  Hyde  Park. 
What  would  people  say  of  the  beautiful  sea-princess  with  the 
proud  air,  the  fearless  eye  and  the  gentle  and  musical 
voice?  Hour  afttr  hour  he  lay  and  could  not  sleep;  a  fever 
of  anticipaiiun,  of  fear  and  hope  combined,  seemed  to  stir 
in  his  blood  and  throb  in  his  brain.  At  last,  in  a  paroxysm 
of  unrest,  he  rose,  hastily  dressed  himself,  stole  down  stairs, 
and  made  his  way  out  into  the  cool  air  of  the  night. 

It  could  not  be  the  coming  dawn  that  revealed  to  him  the 
outlines  of  the  shore  and  tlie  mountains  and  the  loch?  The 
moon  had  alrf  ady  tunk  in  the  Southwest;  not  from  her  came 
that  strange  clearne  s  by  which  all  these  objects  were  defined. 
Ttien  the  young  man  bethought  him  of  what  Sheila  had  said 
of  the  twilight  in  these  latitudes,  and,  turning  to  the  North,  he 
saw  there  a  pale  glow  which  looked  as  if  it  wei  e  the  last  faint 
traces  of  some  former  sunset.  All  over  the  rest  of  the 
heavens  something  of  the  same  metallic  clearness  reigned,  so 
that  the  stars  were  pale,  and  a  gray  hue  lay  over  the  sea,  and 
over  the  island,  the  white  bays,  the  b'ack  rocks  and  the  val- 
leys, ia  which  lay  a  scarcely  perceptible  mist. 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  75 

He  left  the  house  and  went  vaguely  clown  to  the  sea.  The 
cold  air,  scented  strongly  with  the  seaweed,  blew  about  him, 
and  was  sweet  and  fresh  on  the  lips  and  the  forehead.  How 
strange  was  the  monotonous  sound  of  the  waves,  mournful 
and  distant,  like  the  sound  in  a  sea-shell  !  That  alone  spoke 
in  the  awful  stillness  of  the  night,  and  it  seemed  to  be  telling 
of  those  things  which  the  silent  stais  and  the  silent  hills  had 
looked  down  on  for  ages  and  ages.  Did  Sheila  really  love  this 
terrible  thing,  with  its  strange  voice  talking  in  the  night,  or 
did  she  not  secretly  dread  it  and  shudder  at  it  when  she  sang 
of  all  that  old  sadness?  There  was  ringing  in  his  ears  the 
"  Wail  of  Dunevegan  "  as  he  listened  for  a  while  to  the  mel- 
ancholy plashing  of  the  waves  all  around  the  lonely  shores  ; 
and  there  was  a  cry  of  "  Dunevegan,  oh  !  Dunevegan,  oh  !" 
weaving  itself  curiously  with  those  wild  pictures  of  Sheila  in 
London,  which  were  still  fl  ating  before  his  imagination. 

He  walked  away  around  the  coast,  seeing  almost  nothing 
of  the  objects  around  him,  but  conscious  of  the  solemn 
majesty  of  the  mountains  and  the  stillness  of  the  throbbing 
stars.  He  could  have  called  aloud,  "  Sheila  !  Sheiia  !"  but 
that  all  the  place  seemed  associated  with  her  presence;  and 
might  he  not  turn  suddenly  to  find  her  figure  standing  by 
him,  with  her  face  grown  wild  and  pale  as  it  was  in  the  bal- 
lad, and  a  piteous  and  awful  look  in  her  eyes  ?  He  scarcely 
dared  look  around,  lest  there  should  be  a  phantom  Sheila 
appealing  to  him  for  compassion,  and  complaining  against 
him  with  her  speechless  eyes  for  a  wrong  that  he  could  not 
understand.  He  fled  from  her,  but  he  knew  that  she  was 
there;  and  all  the  love  in  his  heart  went  out  to  her  as  if  be- 
seeching her  to  go  away  and  forsake  him,  and  forgive  him 
the  injury  of  which  she  seemed  to  accuse  him.  What  wrong 
had  he  done  her  that  he  should  be  haunted  by  this  spectre, 
that  did  not  threaten,  but  only  looked  piteously  toward  him 
with  eyes  full  of  entreaty  and  pain  ? 

He  left  the  shore,  and  blindly  made  his  way  up  to  the  pas- 
ture-land above,  careless  whither  he  went.  He  knew  not 
how  long  he  had  been  away  from  the  house,  but  here  was  a 
small  fresh-water  lake  set  around  about  with  rushes,  and  far 
over  there  in  the  East  lay  a  glimmer  of  the  channels  between 
Borva  and  Lewis.  But  soon  there  was  another  light  in  the 
East,  high  over  the  low  mists  that  lay  along  the  land.  A  pale 
blue- gray  arose  in  the  cloudless  sky,  and  the  stars  went  out 


76  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

one  by  one.  The  mists  were  seen  to  lie  in  thicker  folds 
along  the  desolate  valleys.  Then  a  faintly  yellow-whiteness 
stole  up  into  the  sky,  and  broadened  and  widened,  and,  be- 
hold! the  little  moorland  loch  caught  a  reflection  of  the  glare, 
and  there  was  a  streak  of  crimson  here  and  there  on  the 
dark-blue  surface  of  the  water.  Loch  Roag  began  to  bright- 
en. Suainabhal  was  touched  with  rose-red  on  its  Eastern 
slopes.  The  Atlantic  seemed  to  rise  out  of  its  purple  sleep 
with  the  new  light  of  a  new  dawn;  and  then  there  was  a 
chirruping  of  birds  over  the  heath,  and  the  first  shafts  of  the 
sunlight  ran  along  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  lit  up  the  white 
wavelets  that  were  breaking  on  the  beach.  The  new  day 
struck  upon  him  with  a  strange  sense  of  wonder.  Where 
was  he?  Whither  had  gone  the  wild  visions  of  the  night, 
the  feverish  dread,  the  horrible  forebodings  ?  The  strong 
mental  emotion  that  had  driven  him  out  now  produced  its 
naiural  reaction;  he  looked  about  in  a  dazed  fashion  at  the 
revelation  of  light  around  him,  and  felt  himself  trembling 
with  weakness.  Slowly,  blindly,  and  hopelessly  he  set  to 
walk  back  across  the  island,  with  the  sunlight  of  the  fresh 
morning  calling  into  life  ten  thousand  audible  things  of  the 
moorland  around  him. 

And  who  was  this  that  stood  at  the  porch  of  the  house  in 
the  clear  sunshine  ?  Not  the  pale  and  ghastly  creature  who 
had  haunted  him  during  those  wild  hours,  but  Sheila  herself, 
singing  some  snatches  of  a  song,  and  engaged  in  watering 
the  two  bushes  of  sweet-brier  at  the  gate.  How  bright  and 
roseate  and  happy  she  looked,  with  the  fine  color  of  her  face 
lit  up  by  the  fresh  sunlight,  and  the  brisk  breeze  from  the  sea 
stirrmg  now  and  again  the  loose  masses  of  her  hair!  Haggard 
and  faint  as  he  was,  he  would  have  startled  her  if  he  had  gone 
up  to  her  then.  He  dared  not  approach  her.  He  waited 
until  she  bad  gone  around  to  the  gable  of  the  house  to  water 
the  plants  there,  and  then  he  stole  into  the  house  and  up- 
stairs, and  threw  himself  upon  the  bed.  And  outside  he  still 
heard  Sheila  singing  lightly  to  herself  as  she  went  about  her 
ordinary  duties,  little  thmking  in  how  strange  and  wild  a 
drama  her  wraith  had  that  night  taken  part. 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  77 


PART  II L 


CHAPTER     VI. 

AT  BARVAS  BRIDGE. 

Very  soon,  indeed,  Ingram  began  to  see  that  his  friend 
had  spoken  to  liim  quite  frankly,  and  that  he  was  really  bent 
on  asking  Sheila  to  become  his  wife.  Ingram  contemplated 
this  prospect  with  some  dismay,  and  with  some  vague  con- 
sciousness that  he  was  himself  responsible  for  what  he  could 
not  help  regarding  as  a  disaster.  He  had  half  expected  that 
Frank  Lavender  would,  in  his  ordinary  fashion,  fall  in  love 
with  Sheila — for  about  a  fortnight.  He  had  joked  him 
about  it,  even  before  they  came  within  sight  of  Sheila's 
home. 

He  had  listened  with  a  grim  humor  to  Lavender's  out- 
bursts of  admiration,  and  only  asked  himself  how  many  times 
he  had  heard  the  same  phrases  before.  But  now  things  were 
looking  more  serious,  for  the  young  man  had  thrown  himself 
into  the  prosecution  of  his  new  project  with  all  the  generous 
poetic  enthusiasm  of  a  highly  impulsive  nature.  Ingram  saw 
that  everything  a  young  man  could  do  to  win  the  heart  of  a 
young  girl  Lavender  would  do  ;  and  Nature  had  dowered 
him  richly  with  various  means  of  fascination.  Most  danger- 
ous of  all  of  these  was  a  gift  of  sincerity  that  deceived  him- 
self. He  could  assume  an  opinion  or  express  an  emotion  at 
will,  with  such  genuine  fervor  that  he  himself  forgot  how  re- 
cently he  had  acquired  it,  and  was  able  to  convince  his  com- 
panion for  the  moment  that  it  was  a  revelation  of  his  inmost 
soul.  It  was  this  charm  of  impetuous  sincerity  which  had 
fascinated  Ingram  himself  years  before,  and  made  him  culti- 
vate the  acquaintence  of  a  yourg  man  whom  he  at  first  re- 
garded as  a  somewhat  facile,  talkative  and  histrionic  person. 
Ingram  perceived,  for  example,  that  young  Lavender  had  so 
little  reg£r.i  for  public  affairs  that  he  would  have  been  quite 
content  to  tee  our  Indian  empire  go,  for  the  sake  of  eliciting 
a  sarcasm  from  Lord  Westbury;  but  at  the  same  time,  if 
you  had  appealed  to  his  nobler  instincts,  and  placed  before 


78  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

him  the  condition  of  a  certain  populace  suffering  from  starva- 
tion, he  would  have  done  all  in  his  power  to  aid  them;  he 
would  have  written  letters  to  the  newspapers,  would  have 
headed  subscriptions,  and  would  have  ended  by  believing 
that  he  had  been  the  constant  friend  of  the  people  of  India 
throughout  his  life,  and  was  bound  to  stick  to  them  to  the 
end  of  it. 

As  often  as  not  he  borrowed  his  fancies  and  opinions  from 
Edward  Ingram  himself,  who  was  amused  and  gratified  at 
the  same  time  to  find  his  humdrum  notions  receive  a  dozen 
new  lights  and  colors  when  transferred  to  the  warmer  atmos- 
phere of  his  friend's  imagination.  Ingram  would  even  con- 
sent to  receive  from  his  younger  companion  advice,  impetuously 
urged  and  richly  illustrated,  which  he  had  himself  offered  in 
similar  terms  months  before.  At  this  very  moment  he  could 
i;ee  that  much  of  Lavender's  romantic  conceptions  of  Sheila's 
character  was  only  an  exaggeration  of  some  passing  hints  he, 
lagram,  had  dropped,  as  the  Clansman  was  steaming  into 
Stoi  noway.  But  then  they  were  ever  so  much  more  beautiful. 
Ingram  held  to  his  conviction  that  he  himself  was  a  distinctly 
commonplace  person.  He  had  grown  reconciled  to  the  or- 
dinary grooves  of  life.  But  young  Lavender  was  not  com- 
monplace ;  he  fancied  he  could  see  in  him  an  occasional 
flibh  of  something  that  looked  like  genius  ;  and  many  and 
many  a  lime,  in  regarding  the  brilliant  and  facile  powers,  the 
generous  impulses,  and  the  occasional  ambitions  of  his  com- 
panion, he  wondered  whether  these  would  ever  lead  to  any- 
thing  in  the  way  of  production,  or  even  of  consideration  of 
character,  or  whether  they  would  merely  remain  the  passing 
seni^ations  of  an  indifferent  idler.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he 
devoutly  wished  that  Lavender  had  been  born  a  stonemason. 

But  all  these  pleasant  and  graceful  qualities,  which  had 
made  the  young  man  an  agreeable  companion,  were  a  serious 
danger  now;  for  was  it  not  but  too  probable  that  Sheila, 
accustomed  to  the  rude  and  homely  ways  of  the  islander?, 
would  be  attracted  and  pleased  and  fascinated  by  one  who 
had  about  him  so  much  of  a  soft  and  Southern  brightness 
with  which  she  was  wholly  unfamiliar  ?  This  open-hearted 
frankness  of  his  placed  all  his  best  qualities  in  the  sunshine, 
as  it  were:  she  could  not  fail  to  see  the  singular  modesty 
and  courtesy  of  his  bearing  towards  women,  his  gentle  man- 
ners, his  light-heariedness,  his  passionate  admiration  of  the 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  79 

self-sacrifice  of  others,  and  his  sympathy  with  their  suffer- 
ings! Ingram  would  not  have  minded  much  if  Lavender 
alone  had  been  concerned  in  the  dilemma  now  groudng  im- 
minent; he  would  have  left  him  to  flounder  out  as  he  had 
got  out  of  previous  ones.  But  he  had  been  surprised  and 
pained,  and  even  frightened,  to  detect  in  Sheila's  manner 
some  faint  indications — so  faint  that  he  was  doubtful  what 
construction  to  put  on  them — of  a  special  interest  in  the 
young  stranger  whom  he  had  brought  with  him  to  Borva, 

What  could  he  do  in  the  matter  supposing  his  suspicions 
were  correct?  Caution  Sheila? — it  would  be  an  insult. 
Warn  Macker.zie  ? — the  King  of  Borva  would  fly  into  passion 
with  everybody  concerned,  and  bring  endless  humiliation  on 
his  daughter,  who  had  probably  never  dreamed  of  regarding 
Lavender  except  as  a  chance  acquaintance.  Insist  upon  Lav- 
ender going  South  at  once? — that  would  merely  goad  the 
young  man  into  obstinacy.  Ingram  found  himself  in  a  griev- 
ous difficulty,  afraid  to  say  how  much  of  it  was  of  his  own 
creation.  He  had  no  selfish  sentiments  of  his  own  to  consult  : 
if  it  were  to  become  evident  that  the  happiness  of  Sheila  and 
of  his  friend  depended  on  their  marrying  each  other,  he  was 
ready  to  forward  such  a  project  with  all  the  influence  at  his 
command.  But  there  were  a  hundred  reasons  why  he  should 
drfad  such  a  marriage.  He  had  already  mentioned  several 
of  them  to  Lavender  in  trying  to  dissuade  the  young  man 
from  h'S  purpo  ;e.  A  few  days  had  passed  since  th-^n,  and  it 
was  c^eir  that  Lavender  had  abandoned  all  notion  of  fulfill- 
ing those  resolutions  he  had  vaguely  formed.  But  the  more 
Ingram  thought  over  the  matter,  and  the  further  he  recalled 
the  ancient  proverl>s  and  stories  about  the  fate  of  inter  med- 
dlers, the  more  evident  it  became  to  him  that  he  could  take 
no  immediate  action  in  the  affair.  He  would  trust  to  the 
chapter  of  accidents  to  save  Sheila  from  what  he  considered 
a  disastrous  fate.  Perhaps  Lavender  would  repent.  Perhaps 
Mackenzie,  continually  on  the  watch  for  small  secrets,  would 
discover  something,  and  bid  his  daughter  stay  in  Borva  while 
his  guests  proceeded  on  their  tour  through  Lewis.  In  any 
case,  it  was  not  all  certain  that  Lavender  would  be  successful 
in  his  suit.  Was  the  heart  of  a  proud-5pirited,  intelligent 
and  busily-occupied  girl  to  be  won  in  ama'terof  three  weeks 
or  a  month?  Lavender  would  go  South,  and  no  more  would 
be  heard  of  it. 


8o  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

This  tour  around  the  island  cf  Lewis,  however,  was  not 
likely  to  favor  much  any  such  easy  escape  from  the  difficulty. 
On  a  certain  morning  the  larger  of  Mr.  Mackenzie's  boats 
carried  the  hoUday  party  away  from  Borva;  and,  even  at 
this  early  stage,  as  they  sat  at  the  stern  of  the  heavy  craft, 
Lavender  had  arrogated  to  himself  the  exclusive   right   of 
waiting  upon  SheiL\     He  had  constituted  himself  her  com- 
panion in  all  their  excursions  about  Bor\ a  which  they  had 
undertaken,  and  now,  on  this  longer  journey,   they  were  to 
be  once  more  thrown  together.     It  did  s  em' a  little  hard  that 
Ingram  should  be  relegated  tJ  Mackenzie  and  his  theories  of 
government;  but  did  he  not  profess  to  prefer  that?     Like 
most  men,  who  have  got   beyond   five-and-thirty,    he  was 
rather  proud  of  considering  himself  an  observer  of  life.     He 
stood  aside,  as  a  spectator,  and  let  other  people,  engaged  in 
all  manner  of  eager  pursuits,  pass  before  Him  for  review. 
Toward  young  folks,  indeed,  he  assumed  a  good-naturedly 
paternal  air,  as  if  they  were  but,  as  shy-faced  children,  to  be 
humored.     Were  not  their  love  affairs  a  pretty  spectacle  ? 
As  for  himself,  he  was  far  beyond  ail  that.     The  illusions  of 
love-making,  the  devotion,  and   ambition,  and   dreams   of 
cuunship  were  no  longer  possible  to  him,  but  did  they  not 
constitute,   on  the  whole,  a  beautiful  and  charming  study, 
that  had  about  it,  at  times,  some  little  touches  of  pathos? 
At  odd  moments,  when  he  saw  Sheila  and  Lavender  walking 
together  in  the  evening,  he  was  himself  half  inclined  to  w  sh 
that  something  might  come  of  the  young  man's  daeimination. 
It  would  be  so  pleasant  to  play  the  part  of  a  friendly  coun- 
selor, to  humor  the  follies  of  the  young  fo'.ks,  to  make  jokes 
at  their  expense,  and  then,  in  the  midst  of  their  embarrass- 
ment and  jesentment,  to  go  forward  and  pet  them  a  little, 
and  assure  them  of  a  real  and  earnest  sympatliy. 

"Your  time  is  to  come,"  Lavender  said  to  him  suddenly 
after  he  had  been  exhibiting  someof  his  paternal  forbearance 
and  consideration  ;  "  you  will  get  a  dread  ul  twist  some  day, 
my  boy.  You  have  been  doing  nothing  but  dreaming  about 
women,  bat  s;jme  day  or  other  you  wiil  wake  up  and  find 
yourself  captuied  and  fascinated  beyond  anything  you  have 
ever  seen  in  other  people,  and  then  you  will  discover  what  a 
desperately  real  thing  it  is." 

Ingram  had  a  misty  impression  that  he  had  heard  some- 
thing like  this  before.     Had  he  not  given  Lavender  some 


A     PRINCIiSS     OF     THULE.  8l 

warning  of  the  same  kind  ?  But  he  was  so  much  accustomed 
to  hear  those  vague  repetitions  of  his  own  remarks,  and  was, 
on  the  whole,  so  well  pleased  to  think  that  his  commonplace 
notions  should  take  root  and  flourish  in  this  go..dly  s jii,  that 
he  never  thought  of  asking  Lavender  to  q-io  e  his  authority 
for  those  profound  observations  on  men  and  thin  s. 

"  Now,  Miss  Mackenzie,"  said  the  young  man  as  the  b'g 
hnat  was  drawing  near  to  Callernish,  "what  is  to  be  our  fist 
sketch  in  Lewis? ' 

"  The  Callernish  Stones,  of  course,"  said  Mackenzie  him- 
self; "  it  iss  more  than  one  hass  come  to  the  Lewis  to  see  the 
Callernibh  Stones." 

Lavender  had  promised  to  the  King  of  Borva  a  series  of 
water-color  drawings  of  Lewis,  and  Sneila  was  to  choose  the 
subjects  from  day  to  day.  Mackenzie  was  gratified  by  this 
proposal,  and  accejited  it  with  much  magnanimity ;  but  Sheila 
knew  that  before  the  offtr  was  made  Lavender  had  come  to 
her  and  asked  her  if  she  cared  about  sketches,  and  whe.her 
he  might  be  allowed  to  take  a  few  on  this  journey  and  pre- 
sent them  to  her.  She  was  very  grateful,  but  suggested  that 
it  might  please  her  papa  if  they  were  given  to  him.  Would 
she  superintend  them,  then,  and  choose  the  topics  for  illus- 
tration ?  Yes,  she  would  do  that;  and  so  the  young  man  was 
furnished  with  a  roving  commision. 

He  brought  her  a  little  sepia  sketch  of  Borvapost,  its  huts, 
its  bay,  and  its  upturned  beats  on  the  beach.  Sheila's  ex- 
pressions of  praise,  the  admiration  and  pleasure  that  shone  in 
her  eyes,  would  have  turned  any  young  man's  head.  But 
her  papa  looked  at  the  picture  with  a  critical  e\e,  and 
remarked,  "  Oh,  yes,  it  is  ferry  good,  but  is  not  the  color  of 
Loch  Roag  at  all.  It  is  the  color  of  a  river  where  there  is  a 
flood  of  rain.  I  have  neffer  at  all  seen  Loch  Roag  a  brown 
color — neffer  at  all." 

It  was  clear  then,  that  the  subsequent  sketches  could  not 
be  taken  in  sepia,  and  to  Lavender  proposed  to  make  a  series 
cf  pencil-drawings,  which  could  be  washed  ir.  with  color 
afttrwaid.  There  was  one  subject,  indeed,  which  since  his 
arrival  in  Lewis  he  had  tried  to  fix  on  paper  by  every  con- 
ceivable means  in  his  power,  and  that  was  Shei'a  herself.  He 
had  spoiled  innumerable  sheets  of  paper  in  trying  to  get  some 
likeness  of  her  which  would  satisfy  himself,  but  all  hs  usual 
skill  seemed  somehow  to  have  '"'•one  from  him.     He  could  not 


82  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

understand  it.  In  ordinary  circumstances  he  could  have 
traced  in  a  dozen  lines  a  portrait  that  would  at  least  have 
shown  a  superficial  likeness  :  he  could  have  multiplied  por- 
traits by  the  dozen  of  old  Mackenzie  or  Ingram  or  Duncan, 
but  here  he  seemed  to  fail  utterly.  He  invited  no  criticism, 
certainly.  The^e  efforts  were  made  in  his  own  room,  and  he 
asked  no  one's  opinion  as  to  the  likeness.  He  could,  indeed, 
certify  to  himself  that  the  drawing  of  the  features  was  correct 
enough.  There  was  the  sweet  and  placid  forehead,  with  its 
low  masses  of  dark  hair;  there  the  short  upper  lip,  the  finely 
carved  mouth,  the  beautifully-rounded  chin  and  throat  ;  ai'd 
there  the  frank,  clear,  proud  eyes,  wiih  their  long  lashes  and 
highly-curved  eyebrows.  Sometimes,  too,  a  touch  of  color 
added  warmth  to  the  complexion,  put  a  glimmer  of  the  blue 
sea  beneath  the  long,  black  eyelashes,  and  drew  a  thread  of 
scar.et  around  the  white  reck. 

But  was  this  Sheila?  Could  he  take  this  sheet  of  paper  to 
his  friends  in  London  and  say,  Here  is  the  magical  princess 
whom  I  hope  to  bring  to  you  from  the  North,  with  all  the 
glamour  of  the  sea  around'  her  ?  He  felt  instinctively  that 
there  would  be  an  awkward  pause.  The  people  would  praise 
the  haudbome,  frank,  courageous  head,  and  look  upon  the 
bit  of  led  ribbon  around  the  neck  as  an  effective  artistic 
touch.  They  would  hand  him  back  the  paper  with  a  com- 
pliment, and  he  would  find  himself  in  an  agony  of  unrest  be- 
cause they  had  misunder .lood  the  portrait-,  and  seen  nothing 
of  the  wonder  that  encompassed  this  Highland  girl  as  if  with 
a  garment  of  mystery  and  dreams. 

So  he  tore  up  portrait  after  portrait—  more  than  one  of 
which  would  have  startled  Ingram  by  its  truth — and  then, 
to  prove  to  himself  that  he  was  not  growing  mad,  he  resolved 
to  try  a  portra  t  of  some  other  person.  He  diew  a  head  of 
old  Mackenz  e  in  chalk,  and  w..s  amazed  at  the  rapidity  and 
facility  with  which  he  executed  the  task.  Then  there  could 
be  no  doubt  as  to  the  success  of  the  likeness  nor  as  to  the 
effect  of  the  picture.  The  King  of  Burva,  with  his  heavy 
eyebrows,  his  aquiline  nose,  his  keen  gray  eyes  and  flowing 
beard,  offered  a  fine  subject;  and  there  was  something  really 
royal  and  massive  and  noble  in  the  head  that  Lavender,  well 
satisfied  with  his  work,  took  down  siairs  one  evening. 
Sheila  was  alone  iu  the  drawing-room,  turning  over  some 
rausic. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  83 

"  Miss  Mackenzie,"  he  said,  rather  kindly,  "  would  yon 
look  at  this?" 

Sheila  turned  around,  and  the  sudden  light  of  pleasure  that 
leapt  to  her  face  was  all  the  praise  and  all  the  assurance  he 
wanted.  But  he  had  more  than  that.  The  girl  was  grateful 
to  him  beyond  all  the  words  she  could  utter;  and  when  he 
asked  her  if  she  would  accept  the  picture,  she  thanked  him 
by  taking  his  hand  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  left  the  room 
to  call  in  Ingram  and  her  father.  All  the  evening  there  was 
a  singular  luok  of  happiness  on  her  face.  When  she  met 
Lavender's  eyes  with  hers  there  was  a  frank  and  friendly  look 
of  gratitude  ready  to  reward  him.  When  had  he  earned  so 
much  before  by  a  simple  sketch?  Many  and  many  a  por- 
trait, carefully  executed  and  elaborately  framed,  had  he  pre- 
sented to  his  lady  friends  in  London,  to  receive  from  them  a 
pretty  note  and  a  few  words  of  thanks  when  next  he  called. 
Here  with  a  rough  chalk  sketch  he  had  awakened  an  amount 
of  gratitude  that  almost  surprised  him,  in  the  most  beautiful 
and  tender  soul  in  this  world ;  and  had  not  this  princess 
among  women  taken  his  hand  for  a  moment  as  a  childlike 
way  of  expressing  her  thanks,  while  her  eyes  spoke  more  than 
her  lips  ?  And  the  more  he  looked  at  those  eyes,  the  more 
he  grew  to  despair  of  ever  being  able  to  put  down  the  magic 
of  them  in  lines  and  colors. 

At  length,  Duncan  got  the  boat  into  the  small  creek  at 
Callernish,  and  the  party  got  out  on  the  shore.  As  they 
were  going  up  the  steep  path  leading  to  the  plain  above,  a 
young  girl  met  them,  who  looked  at  them  in  rather  a  strange 
way.  She  had  a  fair,  pretty,  wondering  face,  with  singu- 
larly high  eyebrows,  and  clear,  light  blue  eyes. 

"How  are  you,  Eily?"  said  Mackenzie,  as  he  passed  on 
with  Ingram. 

But  Sheila,  on  making  the  same  inquiry,  shook  hands  with 
the  girl,  who  smiled  in  a  confidential  way,  and,  coming  quite 
close,  nodded  and  pointed  down  to  the  water's  edge. 

"Have  you  seen  them  to-day,  Eily?"  said  Sheila,  still 
holding  the  girl  by  the  hands,  and  looking  at  the  fair, 
pretty,  strange  face. 

"  It  wass  sa  day  before  yesterday,"  she  answered,  in  a 
whisper,  while  a  pleased  smile  appeared  on  her  face,  "and 
sey  will  be  here  sa  night." 

"Good-bye,  Eily;  take  care  you   don't    stay  out  at  night 


^4  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

and  catch  cold,  you  know,"  said  Sheila;  and  then,  with 
another  little  nod  and  a  smile,  the  young  girl  went  down  the 
pat'i. 

"  It  is  Eily  of-the-Ghosts,  as  they  call  her,"  said  Sheila  to 
Lavender  as  they  went  on;  "the  poor  thing  fancies  she  sees 
little  people  about  the  rocks,  and  watches  for  them.  But 
she  is  very  good  and  quiet,  and  she  is  not  afraid  of  them,  and 
she  does  no  harm  to  any  one.  She  does  not  belong  to  the 
Lewis— I  think  she  is  from  Islay— but  she  sometimes  comes 
to  pay  us  a  visit  at  Borva,  and  my  papa  is  very  kind  to 
her/' 

"  Mr.  Ingram  does  not  appear  to  know  her;  I  thought  he 
was  acquainted  with  every  one  in  the  island,"  said  Lavender. 

"  Shvi  was  not  here  when  he  has  bee  i  ia  the  Lewis  before,'' 
said  Sheila;  "  but  Eiiy  does  not  like  to  speak  to  strangers, 
and  I  do  not  think  you  could  get  her  to  speak  to  you  if  you 
tried,"  ^ 

Lavender  had  paid  but  little  attention  to  the  "false  men" 
of  Callernish  when  first  he  .^aw  them,  but  now  he  approached 
the  long  lines  of  big  stones  upon  this  lonely  plateau  with  a 
new  interest;  fcr  Sheila  had  talked  to  him  about  them  many 
a  time  in  Borva,  and  had  asked  his  opinion  about  their  origin 
and  their  age.  Was  the  central  circle  of  stones  an  altar,  with 
the  other  series  marking  the  approaches  to  it  ?  Or,  was  it  the 
grave  of  some  great  chieftain,  with  the  remaining  stones  indi- 
cating the  graves  of  his  relations  and  friends?  Or  was  it  the 
commemoration  of  some  battle  in  olden  times,  or  the  record 
of  astronomical  or  geometrical  discoveries,  or  a  temple  once 
devoted  to  serpent-worship,  or  what  ?  Lavender,  who  knew 
absolu  ely  nothing  at  all  about  the  matter,  was  probably  as 
v/ell  qualified  as  anybody  else  to  answer  these  questions,  but 
fieforebore.  The  interest,  however,  that  Sheiia  showed  in 
such  things  he  very  rapidly  acquired.  When  he  came  to  see 
the  rows  of  stones  a  second  time  he  was  much  imprersed  by 
their  position  on  this  bit  of  hill  overlooking  the  sea.  He  sat 
down  on  his  camp-stool  with  the  determination  that,  although 
he  could  not  satisfy  Sheila's  wis;ful  questions,  he  would  pre- 
sent her  with  some  little  sketch  of  these  monuments  and  their 
surroundings,  which  might  catch  up  something  of  the  mysteri- 
ous loneliness  of  the  scene. 

He  would  not,  of  course,  have  the  picture  as  it  then  pre- 
sented iiself.     The  sun  was  glowing  on  the  grass  around  him, 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  85 

and  lighting  up  the  tall,  gray  pillars  of  stone  with  a  cheerful 
radiance.  Over  there  the  waters  of  Loch  Roag  were  bright 
and  blue,  and  beyond  the  lake  the  undulations  of  moorland 
were  green  and  beautiful,  and  the  mountains  in  the  South 
grown  pale  as  silver  in  the  heat.  Here  was  a  pretty  young 
lady,  in  a  rough  blue  traveling  dress  and  a  hat  and  feather, 
who  was  engaged  in  picking  up  wild  flowers  from  the  warm 
heath.  There  w?s  a  gentleman  from  the  office  of  the  Board 
of  Trade,  who  wa^  silting  on  the  grass,  nursing  his  knees 
and  whistling.  From  time  to  time  the  chief  figure  in  the 
foreground  was  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  evidently  expected 
that  he  was  going  to  be  put  into  the  picture,  and  who  was 
occasionally  dropping  a  cautious  hint  that  he  did  not  always 
wear  this  rough-and-ready  sailor's  costume.  Mackenzie  was 
also  most  anxious  to  point  out  to  the  artist  the  names  of  the 
hills  and  districts  lying  to  the  south  of  Loch  Roag,  appar- 
ently with  the  hope  that  the  sketch  would  have  a  certain 
topographical  interest  for  future  visitors. 

No  ;  Lavender  was  content  at  that  moment  to  take  down 
the  outlines  of  the  great  stones  and  the  configuration  of  the 
lake  and  hill  beyond,  but  by  and  by  he  would  give  another 
sort  of  atmosphere  to  this  wild  scene.  He  would  have  rain 
and  darkness  spread  over  the  island,  with  the  low  hills  in  the 
South  grown  desolate  and  remote,  and  the  waters  of  the  sea 
covered  with  gloom.  No  human  figure  should  be  visible  on 
this  remote  plain,  where  these  strange  memorials  had  stood 
for  centuries  exposed  to  AVestern  gales  and  the  stillness  of  the 
Winter  nights,  and  the  awful  silence  of  the  stars.  Would 
not  Sheila,  at  least,  understand  the  bleakness  and  desolation 
of  the  picture?  Of  course  her  father  would  like  to  have 
everything  blue  and  green.  He  seemed  a  little  disappointed 
when  it  was  clear  that  no  distant  glimpse  of  Borva  could 
be  introduced  into  the  sketch.  But  Sheila's  imagination 
would  be  captured  by  this  sombre  picture,  and  perhaps  by 
and  by  in  some  other  land,  amid  fairer  scenes  and  in  a  more 
generous  climate,  she  might  be  less  inclined  to  hunger  for 
the  dark  and  melancholy  North  when  she  looked  on  this 
record  of  its  gloom  and  sadness. 

"Isshegomg  to  put  any  people  in  the  pictures?"  said 
Mackenzie  in  a  confidential  whisper  to  Ingram. 

Ingram  got  up  from  the  grass,  and  said  with  a  yawn,  "  I 
don't  know.    If  he  does,  it  will  be  afterward.     Suppose  we 


86 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 


go  along  to  the  wagonette  and  see  if  Duncan  has  broueht 
everything  up  from  the  boat  ?  " 

The  old  man  seemed  rather  unwilling  to  be  cut  out  of  this 
particular  sketch,  but  he  went,  nevertheless;  and  Sh^Ha 
seeing  the  young  man  left  alone,  and  thinking  tha^  not  qu'te 
fa-r,  went  over  to  him  and  a.ked  if  she  might  be  permitted 
to  see  as  much  as  he  had  done. 
Lavender  shut  up  the  bot  k. 

-No,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  "you  shall  see  it  to-night. 
1  have  sufficient  memoranda  to  work  something  out  of  by  and 
by.     bhall  we  have  another  look  at  the  circle  up  there  ?  " 

He  folded  up  -and  shouldered  his  camp-stool,  and  they 
walked  up  to  the  point  at  which  the  lines  of  the  "  mourners  '' 
converged.     Perhaps  he  was  moved  by  a  great  antiquarian 
curiosity;  at  all  events,  he  showed  a  singular  interest  in  the 
monuments,  and  talked  to  his  companion  about  all  the  possi- 
ble theories  connected  with  such  stones  in  a  fashion  that 
charmed  her  greatly.     She  was  easily  persuaded  that  the  Cal- 
lernish   '  Fir-Bhreige  "  were  the  most  interesting  relics  in  the 
world.     He  had  seen  Stonehenge,  but  Stonehenge  was  too 
scattered  to  be  impressive.     There  was  more  mystery  about 
the  means  by  which  the  inhabitants  of  a  small  island  could 
have  hewn  and  carved  and  erected  these  blocks;  there  was 
moreover,  the  mystery  about  the  vanished  population  itself! 
\  es,  he  had  been  to  Carnac  also.     He  had  driven  down  from 
Auray  in  a  lumbering  old  trap,  his  coachman  being  unable  to 
talk  i^  rench.     He  had  seen  the  half-cultivated  plain  on  which 
there  were  rows  and  rows  of  small  stones,  scarcely  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  stone  walls  of  the  adjoining  farms    What 
was  there  impressive  about  such  a  sight  when  you  went  into 
a  house  and  paid  a  franc  to  be  shown  the  gold  ornaments 
picked  up  about  the  place?     Hcie,  however,  was  a  perfect 
series  of  those  strange  memorials,  with  the  long  lanes  leadina: 
up  to  a  circle,  and  the  tallest  of  all  the  stones  placed  on  the 
Western  side  of  the  circle,  perhaps  as  the  head.tone  of  the 
buried  chief.     Look  at  the  position,  too— the  silent  hill  the 
waters  of  the  sea-loch  around  it,  and  beyond  that  the  desola- 
tion of  miles  of  untenanted  moorland.     Sheila  looked  pleased 
that  her  companion,  after  coming  so  far,  should  have  found 
something  worth  looking  at  in  the  Lewis. 

"  Does  it  not  seem  strange,"  he  said  suddenly,  "to   think 
of  young  folks  of  the  present  day   picking   up   wild   flowers 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  87 

from  among  these  old  stones  ?"'  He  was  looking  at  a  tiny 
bouquet  which  she  had  gathered, 

"  Will  you  take  them  ?"  she  said,  quite  simply  and  naturally, 
offering  him  the  flowers.  "They  may  remind  you  some  time 
of  Callernish."' 

He  took  the  flowers  and  regarded  them  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  and  then  he  said  gently,  "  I  do  not  think  I  shall  want 
tnese  to  remind  me  of  Callernish.  I  shall  never  forget  our  be- 
ing here." 

At  this  moment,  perhaps  fortunately,  Duncan  appeared, 
and  came  along  toward  the  young  people  with  a  basket  in  his 
hand. 

'•It  wass  ]Mr.  Mackenzie  will  ask  if  ye  will  tek  a  glass  o' 
whisky,  sir,  and  a  bit  o'  biead  and  cheese.  And  he  wass 
f-ayin'  there  was  no  hurry  at  all,  and  he  will  wait  fur  you 
for  two  hours  or  half  an  hour  whatever." 

"  All  right,  Duncan ;  go  back  and  tell  him  I  have  finished, 
and  we  shall  be  there-  directly.  No,  thank  you,  don't  take 
out  the  whisky — unless,  Miss  Mackenzie,"  added  the  young 
man  with  a  smile,  "  Duncan  can  persuade  you." 

Duncan  looked  with  amazement  at  the  man  who  dared  to 
joke  about  Miss  Sheila  taking  whisky,  and  without  waiting 
for  any  further  commands  indignantly  shut  the  lid  of  the 
basket  and  walked  off. 

**  I  wonder,  Miss  Mackenzie,"  said  Lavender,  as  they  went 
along  the  path  down  the  hill — "  I  wonder  what  you  would 
say  if  I  happened  to  call  you  Sheila  by  mistake  ?" 

'*  I  should  be  glad  if  you  did  that.  Every  one  calls  me 
Sheila,"  said  the  girl  quietly  enough. 

"  You  would  not  be  vexed  ?"  he  said,  regarding  her  with 
a  little  surprise. 

"No;  why  should  I  be  vexed?"  she  answered;  and  she 
happened  to  look  up,  and  he  saw  what  a  clear  light  of  sin- 
cerity there  was  shining  in  her  eyes. 

"  Slay  I  then  call  you  Sheila?" 

«  Yes." 

"  But — but — "  he  said,  with  a  timidity  and  embarrass- 
ment of  which  she  showed  no  trace  whatever — "  but  people 
might  think  it  strange,  you  know;  and  yet  1  should  greatly 
like  to  call  you  Sheila;  only,  not  before  other  people  per- 
kaps." 

**  But  why  not?"  she  said,  with  her  eyebrows  just  raised  a 


88  A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE, 

little.  "  Why  should  you  wish  to  call  me  Sheila  at  one  time 
and  not  at  the  other?  It  is  no  difference  whatever,  and 
every  one  ca'ls  me  Sheila." 

Lavender  was  a  little  disappointed.  He  had  hoped,  when 
she  consented  in  so  friendly  a  manner  to  his  calling  her  bv 
any  name  he  chose,  that  he  couid  have  established  this  little 
arrangement,  which  would  have  had  about  it  something  of 
the  nature  of  a  personal  confidence.  Sheila  would  evidently 
have  none  of  that.  Was  it  that  she  was  really  so  simple  and 
frank  in  her  ways  that  she  did  not  understand  why  there 
should  be  such  a  difference,  and  what  it  might  imply,  or  was 
she  w^ell  aware  of  everything  he  had  been  wishing,  and  able 
to  assume  this  air  of  simplicity  and  ignorance  with  a  perfect 
grace  ?  Ingram,  he  reflected,  would  have  said  at  once  that  to 
suspect  Sheila  of  such  duplicity  was  to  insult  her  ;  but  then 
Ingram  was  perhaps  himself  a  trifie  too  easily  imposed  on,  and 
he  had  notiuns  about  women,  despite  all  his  philosophical 
reading  and  such  like,  that  a  little  more  mingling  in  society 
might  have  caused  him  to  alter.  Frank  Lavender  confessed 
to  himself  that  Sheila  was  eiiher  a  miracle  oi  ingenuotisness 
era  thorough  mistress  of  the  art  of  assuming  it.  On  the  one 
hand,  he  considered  it  almost  impossible  for  a  woman  to  be 
so  disingenuous  ;  on  the  other  hand,  how  could  this  girl  have 
taught  herself,  in  the  solitude  of  a  savage  island,  a  species  of 
histrionicism  which  women  in  London  circles  strove  for  years 
to  acquire,  and  rarely  acquired  in  any  perfection  ?  At  all 
events,  he  said  to  himself,  while  he  reserved  his  opinion  on 
this  point,  he  was  not  going  to  call  Sheila,  Sheila  betore  folks 
who  would  know  what  that  meant.  Mr,  Mackenzie  was  evi- 
dently a  most  irascible  old  gentleman.  Goodness  only  knew 
what  sort  of  law  prevailed  in  these  wild  parts  ;  and  to  be 
siized  at  midnight  by  a  couple  of  brawny  fishermen,  to  be 
carried  down  to  a  projecting  kdge  of  rock  !  Had  not  Ingram 
a'ready  hinted  that  Mackenzie  would  straightway  throw  into 
Loch  Roag  the  man  who  should  offer  to  carry  away  Sheila 
from  him  ? 

But  how  could  these  doubts  of  Sheila's  sincerity  last?  He 
sat  opposite  her  in  the  wagonette,  and  the  perfect  truth  of 
her  face,  of  her  frank  eyes  and  of  her  ready  smile  met  him 
at  every  moment,  wiitther  he  talked  to  her  or  to  Ingram,  or 
listened  to  old  Mackenzie,  who  turned  from  time  to  time 
from  the  driving  of  the  horses  to  inform  the  stranger  of  what 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE,  89 

he  saw  around  him.  It  was  ihe  most  brilliant  of  mornings. 
The  sun  burned  on  the  white  road,  on  the  green  moorland, 
on  the  gray  lichened  rocks  with  their  crimson  patches  of 
heather.  As  they  drove  by  the  curious  convolutions  of  this 
rigged  coast  the  sea  that  lay  beyond  these  recurring  bays 
and  points  was  of  a  windy  green,  with  here  and  there  a  streak 
of  white,  and  the  fresh  breeze  blowing  across  to  them  tem- 
pered the  fierce  heat  of  the  sun.  How  cool,  too,  were  those 
liitle  fresh-water  lakes  they  passed,  the  clear  blue  and  white 
of  them  stirred  into  wavelets  that  moved  the  reeds  and  left 
air-bubbles  about  the  half-submerged  stones  !  Were  not 
those  wild  geese  over  there,  flapping  in  the  water  with  their 
huge  v/ings  and  taking  no  notice  of  the  passing  strangers? 
Lavender  had  never  seen  this  lonely  coast  in  times  of  gloom, 
with  those  little  lakes  becoming  sombre  pools,  and  the  out- 
line of  the  rocks  beyond  lost  in  the  driving  mist  of  the  sea 
and  the  rain.  It  was  altogether  a  bright  and  beautiful  world 
he  had  got  into,  and  there  was  in  it  but  one  woman,  beauti- 
ful beyond  his  dreams.  To  doubt  her  was  to  doubt  all 
wom^n.  When  he  looked  at  her  he  forgot  the  caution  and 
distrust  and  sardonic  self-complacency  his  Southern  training 
had  given  him.  He  believed,  and  the  world  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  a  new  light. 

"That  is  Loch-na-Muil'ne,''  Macl<enzie  was  saying,  "and 
it  iss  the  Loch  of  the  Mill;  and  over  there,  that  is  Loch-a- 
Bhaile,  and  that  iss  the  Loch  of  the  Town;  but  where  iss  the 
loch  and  the  town  now?  It  wass  many  hundreds  of  years 
before  there  will  be  numbers  of  people  in  this  place;  and  you 
will  come  to  Dun  Charlobhaidh,  which  is  a  great  castle,  by 
and  by.  And  what  wass  it  will  drive  away  the  people,  and 
leave  the  land  to  the  moss,  but  that  there  wass  no  one  to 
look  after  them  ?  '  When  the  natives  will  leave  Islay,  fare- 
well to  the  peace  of  Scotland,'  That  iss  a  good  proverb. 
And  if  they  have  no  one  to  mind  them,  they  will  go  away 
altogether.  And  there  is  no  people  more  obedient  than  the 
people  of  the  Highlands — not  anywhere;  for  you  know  that 
we  say:  'Is  it  the  truth,  as  if  you  were  speaking  before 
kings?'  And  now,  there  is  the  castle,  and  there  wass  many 
people  living  here  when  they  could  build  that." 

It  was,  in  truth,  one  of  those  circular  forts,  the  date  of 
which  has  given  rise  to  endless  conjecture  and  discussion. 
Perched  up  on  a  hill,  it  overlooked  a  number  of  deep  and 


90  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

narrow  valleys  that  ran  landward,  while  the  other  side  of  the 
hill  sloped  down  to  the  sea-shore.  It  was  a  striking  object, 
this  tumbling  mass  of  dark  stones  standing  high  over  the 
green  hollows  and  over  the  light  plain  of  the  sea.  Was  ihere 
not  here  material  for  another  sketch  for  Sheila?  While 
Lavender  had  gone  away  over  the  heights  and  hollows  to 
chooe  his  point  of  view  a  rough  and  ready  luncheon  had 
been  spread  out  in  the  wagonette,  and  when  he  returned, 
perspiring  and  considerably  biown,  he  found  old  Mac- 
kenzie measuring  out  equal  portions  of  peat-water  and  whisky, 
Duncan  flicking  the  enormous  *'  clegs"  fiom  off  the  horses' 
necks,  Ingram  trying  to  persuade  Sheila  to  have  some  sherry 
out  of  a  flask  he  carried,  and  everybody  in  very  good  spirits 
over  such  an  exciting  event  as  a  roadside  luncheon  on  a 
summer  forenoon. 

The  King  of  Borva  had  by  this  time  become  excellent 
friends  with  the  young  stranger  who  had  ventured  into  his 
dominions.  When  the  old  gentleman  had  sufficiently  im- 
pressed on  everybody  that  he  had  observed  all  necessary  pre- 
cautions in  studying  the  character  and  inquiring  into  the  an- 
tecedents of  Lavender,  he  could  not  help  confessing  to  a 
sense  of  lightness  and  vivacity  that  che  young  man  seemed 
to  bring  with  him  and  shed  around  him.  Nor  was  this  mat- 
ter of  the  sketches  the  only  thing  tliat  had  particularly  recom- 
mended  Lavender  to  the  old  man.  Mackenzie  had  a  most 
distinct  dislike  to  Gaelic  songs.  He  could  not  bear  the  mo- 
notonous melancholy  of  them.  When  Sheila,  sitting  by  her- 
self, would  sing  these  strange  old  ballads  of  an  evening,  he 
would  suddenly  enter  the  room,  probably  find  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  then  he  would  in  his  inmost  heart  devote  the 
whole  of  Gaelic  minstrelsy  and  all  its  authors  to  the  infernal 
gnds.  Why  should  people  be  fore^'er  maddening  themselves 
with  the  stories  of  other  folks'  misfortunes?  It  was  bad 
enough  for  those  poor  people,  but  they  had  borne  their  sor- 
jows  and  died,  and  were  ac  peace.  Surely  it  was  better  that 
we  should  have  songs  about  ourselves — drinking  or  fighting, 
if  you  like  —  to  keep  up  the  spirits,  to  lighten  the  serious 
cares  of  life,  aud  drown  for  a  while  the  responsibility  of 
looking  afier  a  whole  population  of  poor,  half-ignorant,  un- 
philosophical  creatures. 

**  Look  now,''  he  would  say,  speaking  of  his  own  tongue, 
"look  at  this  teffle  of  a  language  !     It  has  no  present  tense 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  9 1 

to  its  verbs;  the  people  they  are  always  looking  forward  to  a 
melancholy  future  or  looking  back  to  a  melancholy  past.  In 
the  name  of  Kott,  hef  we  not  got  ourselves  to  live  ?  This  day 
we  live  in  is  better  than  any  day  that  wass  before  oriss  to  come, 
bekass  it  is  here  we  are  alive.  And  I  will  hef  no  moreof  these 
songs  about  crying,  and  crying,  and  crying  !" 

Now  Sheila  and  Lavendt-r,  in  their  musical  mutual  corfi- 
dences,  had  at  an  early  period  discovered  that  each  of  tb.eiii 
knew  something  of  the  elder  English  duets,  and  forthwith 
they  tried  a  few  of  them,  to  Mackenzie's  extreme  delii^lit. 
Here,  at  last,  was  a  sort  of  music  he  could  understand — none 
of  your  meanings  of  widows  and  cries  of  luckless  girls  to  the 
sea,  but  good  commonsense  songs,  in  which  the  lads  kis^C'l 
the  lasses  with  a  will,  and  had  a  good  drink  afterward  and  a 
dance  on  the  green  on  their  homeward  way.  There  was  fun 
in  those  happy  May-fields,  and  good  health  and  briskness  in 
the  ale-house  choruses,  and  throughout  them  all  a  prevailing 
cheerfulness  and  contentment  with  the  conditions  of  life  cer- 
tain to  recommend  itself  to  the  contemplative  mind. 

Mackenzie  never  grew  tired  of  hearing  those  simple  ditties. 
He  grew  confidential  with  the  young  man,  and  told  him  that 
those  fine,  commonsense  songs  recalled  pleasant  scenes  to 
him.  He,  himself,  knew  something  of  English  village  life. 
When  he  had  been  up  to  see  the  great  Exhibition,  he  had 
gone  to  visit  a  friend  living  in  Brighton,  and  he  had  surveyed 
the  country  with  an  observant  eye.  He  had  remarked  several 
village-greens,  with  the  May-poles  standing  here  and  there 
in  front  of  the  cottages,  emblazoned  with  beautiful  banners. 
He  had,  it  is  true,  fancied  that  the  May-pole  should  be  in 
the  centre  of  the  green  ;  but  the  manner  in  which  the  waves 
of  population  swept  here  and  there,  swallowing  up  open 
spaces  and  so  forth,  would  account  to  a  philosophical  person 
for  the  fact  that  the  May-poles  were  now  close  to  the  village 
shop';. 

"  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes,"  hummed  the  K'ng  of 
Eorva  to  himself  as  he  sent  the  two  little  hors':s  alon<  tie 
coast  road  on  this  warm  Summer  day.  He  had  heard  the 
song  for  the  first  time  on  the  previous  evening.  He  liad  no 
voice  to  speak  of;  he  had  missed  the  air,  and  these  were  all 
the  words  he  remembered;  but  it  was  a  notable  compliment, 
all  the  samxc,  to  the  young  man  who  had  brought  these  pleas- 
ant tunes  to  the  i..land. 


93  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

And  so  they  drove  on  through  the  keen  salt  air,  with  the 
sea  shining  beside  them  and  the  sky  shining  over  them;  and 
in  the  afternoon  they  arrived  at  the  small,  remote  and  solitary 
inn  of  Barvas,  placed  near  the  confluence  of  several  rivers 
that  flow  through  Loch  Barvas  (or  Barabbas)  to  the  sea. 
Here  they  proposed  to  stop  the  night,  so  that  Lavender,  when 
his  room  had  been  assigned  to  him,  begged  to  be  left  ahn- 
for  an  hour  or  two,  that  he  might  throw  a  Itttle  color  int  \ 
his  sketch  of  Callernish.  What  was  there  to  see  at  Barvrs? 
Why,  nothing  but  the  channels  of  the  brown  streams,  some 
pasture  land  and  a  few  huts,  then  the  unfrequented  lake,  and 
beyond  that,  some  ridges  of  white  sand  standing  over  the 
shingly  beach  of  the  sea.  He  would  join  them  at  dinner. 
Mackenzie  protested  in  a  mild  way;  he  really  wanted  to  see* 
how  the  island  was  to  be  illustrated  by  the  stranger.  There 
wss  a  greater  protest,  mingled  with  compassion  and  regret, 
in  Sheila's  eyer ;  but  the  young  man  was  firm.  So  they  let 
him  have  his  way,  and  gave  him  full  possession  of  the  com- 
mon 8itting-room,  while  they  set  off"  to  visit  the  school  and 
the  Free  Church  manse  and  what  not  in  the  neighborhood. 

Mackenzie  had  ordered  dinner  at  eight,  to  show  that  he 
was  familiar  w^th  the  ways  of  civilized  life;  and  when  they  re- 
turned at  that  hour.  Lavender  had  two  sketches  finished. 

"  Yes,  they  are  very  good,"  said  Ingram,  who  was  seldom 
enthusiastic  about  his  friend's  work. 

But  old  Mackenzie  was  so  vastly  pleased  with  the  picture, 
which  lepresented  his  native  place  in  the  brightest  of  sun- 
shine and  colors,  that  he  forgot  to  assume  a  critical  air. 
He  said  nothing  against  the  rainy  and  desolate  version  of  the 
scene  that  had  been  given  to  Sheila— it  was  good  enough  to 
please  the  child.  But  here  was  something  brilliant,  effective, 
cheerful;  and  he  alarmed  Lavender  not  a  little  by  proposing 
to  get  one  of  the  natives  to  carry  this  treasure,  then  and 
there,  back  to  Borvapost.  Both  sketches  were  ultimately 
returned  to  his  book,  and  then  Sheila  helped  him  to  remove 
his  aitibtic  apparatus  from  the  table  on  which  their  p'ain  and 
homely  meal  was  to  be  placed.  As  she  was  about  to  follow 
her  father  and  Ingram,  who  had  left  the  room,  she  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  said  to  Lavender,  with  a  look  of  frank 
gratitude  in  her  eyes:  "  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  have  pleased 
my  papa  so  much.  I  know  when  he  is  pleased,  though  he 
does  not  speak  of  it;  and  it  is  not  often  ho  will  be  so  Inuch 
pleased." 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  93 

"And  you,  Sheila?"  said  the  young  man,  unconscious  of 
the  familiarity  he  was  using,  and  only  remembering  that  she 
had  scarcely  thanked  him  for  the  other  sketch. 

"  Well,  there  is  nothing  that  will  please  me  so  much  as  to 
see  him  pleased,''  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

He  was  about  to  open  the  dooi  for  her,  but  he  kept  his 
hand  on  the  handle,  and  said,  earnestly  enough:  "But  that 
is  such  a  smiU  matter — an  hour's  work.  If  y(  u  only  knew 
how  gladly  I  would  live  all  my  life  here  if  only  1  could  do 
you  some  greater  service — " 

She  looked  a  liitle  surprised,  and  then  for  one  brief  second 
reflected.  English  was  not  whcJly  familiar  to  her;  perhaj  s 
she  had  failed  to  ca:ch  what  he  really  meant.  But  at  all 
events  she  said,  gravely  and  simply:  "  You  would  soon  tire 
of  living  here;  it  is  not  always  a  holiday."  And  then,  with- 
out lifting  htr  eyes  to  his  face,  she  turned  to  the  door,  and 
he  opened  it  for  her,  and  she  was  gone. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  they  went  outside  for  their 
evening  stroll,  and  all  the  world  had  grown  enchanted  since 
they  had  seen  it  in  the  colors  of  the  sunset.  There  was  no 
night,  but  a  strange  clearness  ever  the  si.  y  and  the  earth,  and 
down  in  the  South  the  mo.m  was  ris.ng  over  the  Barvas  l.ills. 
In  the  dark-green  meadows  the  cattle  were  still  graznio. 
Voices  of  children  could  be  heard  in  the  far  distance,  w.tli 
the  rumbling  of  a  cart  coming  through  the  silence,  and  tlie 
murmur  of  the  streauis  flowing  down  to  tl  e  loch.  The  loch 
itself  lay  like  a  line  of  duaky  yellow  in  a  darkened  hollow  near 
the  sea,  having  caught  en  its  suiface  the  pale  glow  of  the 
Northern  heavens,  wheie  the  sun  had  gone  down  hours 
before.  The  air  was  warm,  and  yet  fresh  with  the  odors  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  there  was  a  scerit  of  Dutch  clover  ciirning 
acro.-s  from  the  sandy  pastures  nearer  the  coast.  The  huis 
of  the  small  hamlet  could  bit  faint  y  be  made  out  beyond 
the  dark  and  low-lying  pastures,  but  a  long,  pale  line  of  blue 
smoke  lay  in  the  motionless  air,  and  the  voices  of  the  cini- 
dren  told  of  open  doors.  Night  alter  night  this  same  picu.r  •, 
with  slight  variations  of  posiiion,  had  been  placed  beforj  tlie 
stranger  who  had  come  to  view  these  solitudes,  and  niglit 
after  night  it  seemed  to  him  to  grow  more  beautiful,  lie 
could  put  down  on  paper  the  outlines  of  an  every-day  land- 
scape, and  give  them  a  dash  of  brilliant  color  to  look  well  on 
?.  v/all;  but  how  to  carry  away,  txcept  in  the  memory,  r.r.y 


94  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

impression  of  the  strange,  lambent  darkness,  the  tender  hues, 
the  lontl  ness  and  the  pathos  of  those  Northern  twUights  ? 

They  walked  down  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  streams 
towards  the  sea.  But  Sheila  was  not  his  companion  on  this 
occasion.  Her  father  laid  hold  of  him,  and  was  expound- 
ing to  him  the  rights  of  capitalists  and  various  other  matters. 

But  by  and  by  Lavender  drew  his  companion  on  to  talk 
of  Sheila's  mother;  and  here,  at  least,  Mackenzie  was  neiihtr 
tedious  nor  ridiculous  nor  unnecessarily  garrulous.  It  wos 
with  a  strange  interest  the  young  man  heard  the  elderly  man 
talk  of  his  courtship,  his  marriage,  the  character  of  his  wife, 
and  her  goodness  and  beauty.  Was  it  not  like  looking  at  a 
former  Sheila?  and  would  not  this  Sheila  now  walking 
befoie  him  go  through  the  same  tender  experiences,  and  be 
admired  and  loved  and  petted  by  everybody  as  this  other 
girl  had  been,  who  brought  with  her  the  charm  of  winning 
ways,  and  a  gentle  nature,  into  these  rude  wilds  ?  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  heard  Mackenzie  speak  of  his  wife, 
and  it  turned  out  to  be  the  last;  but  from  that  moment  the 
older  man  had  something  of  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  this 
younger  man,  who  had  merely  judged  him  by  his  little 
foibles  and  eccentricities,  and  would  have  been  ready  to 
dismiss  him  conttmptuously  as  a  buffoon.  There  was  some- 
thing, then,  behind  that  powerful  face,  with  its  deep  cut 
lints,  its  heavy  eyebrows,  and  piercing  and  sometimes  sad 
eyes,  besides  a  mere  liking  for  tricks  of  childish  diplomacy? 
Lavender  began  to  have  some  respect  for  Sheila's  father,  and 
made  a  resolution  to  guard  against  the  impertinence  of 
humoring  him  too  ostentatiously. 

Was  it  not  hard,  though,  that  Ingram,  who  was  so  cold 
and  unimpressionable,  who  smiled  at  the  notion  of  marry- 
ing, and  who  was  probably  enjoying  his  pipe  quite  ss 
much  as  Sheila's  familiar  talk,  should  have  the  girl  all  to 
himself  on  tuis  witching  night?  They  reached  the  shores  of 
the  Atlantic.  There  was  not  a  breaih  of  wind  comirg  in 
from  that  sea,  but  the  air  seemed  even  sweeter  and  coukr  as 
they  sat  down  on  the  great  bank  of  shingle.  Here  and  there 
birds  were  caUing,  and  Sheila  could  distinguish  each  one  of 
them.  As  the  moon  rose  a  faint  golden  light  began  to 
tremble  here  and  there  en  the  waves,  as  if  some  subter- 
ranean caverns  were  lit  up  and  sending  up  to  the  surface  faint 
and  fitful  rays  of  their  sp.endor.     Farther  along  the  coast  the 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  95 

tall  banks  of  white  sand  grew  white  in  the  twilight,  and  the 
outlines  of  the  dark  pasture-land  behind  grew  more  distinct. 

Bat  when  they  rose  to  go  back  to  Barvas  the  moonlight 
had  grown  full  and  clear,  and  the  long  and  narrow  loch  had 
a  pathway  of  gold  across,  stretching  from  the  reeds  and 
sedges  of  the  one  side  to  the  reeds  and  sedges  of  the  other. 
And  now  Ingram  had  gone  on  to  join  Mackenzie,  and  Sheila 
walked  behind  with  Lavender,  and  her  face  was  pale  and 
beautiful  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  shall  be  very  sorry  when  I  have  to  leave  Lewis,"  he 
said,  as  they  walked  along  the  path  leading  through  the  s-and 
and  the  clover;  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  he  felt  the 
regret  expressed  in  the  words, 

"  But  it  is  no  use  to  speak  of  leaving  us  yet,"  sa'd  Sheila, 
cheerfully ;  "  it  is  a  long  time  before  you  will  go  away  from 
the  Lewis." 

"And  I  fancy  I  shall  always  think  of  the  island  just  as  it  is 
now — with  the  moonlight  overthere,  and  a  loch  near,  and  you 
walking  through  the  stillness.  We  have  had  so  many  evening 
walks  like  this." 

"  You  will  make  us  very  vain  of  our  island,"  said  the  girl 
with  a  smile,  "  if  you  will  speak  like  that  always  to  us.  Is 
there  no  moonlight  in  England  ?  I  have  pictures  of  English 
scenery  that  will  be  far  more  beautiful  than  any  we  have  here; 
and  if  there  is  the  moon  here,  it  will  be  there  too.  Think  of 
the  pictures  of  the  river  Thames  that  my  papa  showed  you 
last  night — " 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  nothing  like  this  in  the  South,"  said  the 
young  man  impetuously.  "I  do  not  believe  there  is  in  the 
world  anything  so  beautiful  as  this.  Sheila,  what  would  you 
say  if  I  resolved  to  come  and  live  here  always  ?" 

"  I  should  like  that  very  much — more  than  you  would  like 
it,  perhaps,"  she  said,  with  a  bright  laugh. 

'•  That  would  please  you  better  than  for  you  to  go  always 
and  live  in  England,  would  it  not?" 

"  But  that  is  impossible,"  she  said.  "  My  papa  would 
never  think  of  living  in  England." 

For  some  time  after  he  was  silent.  The  two  figures  in 
front  of  them  walked  steadily  on,  an  occasional  roar  of 
laughter  from  the  deep  chest  of  Mackenzie  startling  t!ie 
night  air,  and  telling  of  Ingram's  being  in  a  comiiiunicative 
mood.     At  last  Livender  said:  "  It  seems  to  me  a  great  pity 


•>6  A     PRINCESS     OF   THI'z-E. 

that  you  should  live  in  this  remote  pKce,  and  have  <:o  little 
amusement,  and  see  so  few  people"  of  tastes  and  education 
like  your  own.  Your  papa  is  so  nuch  occupied— he  is  so 
much  older  than  you,  too— that  you  must  be  left  to  yoursr-lf 
so  much;  whereas  if  you  had  a  companion  of  your  own  a-e 
^■.ho  could  have  the  right  to  taJk  frankly  to  you,  and  go  about 
with  you  and  take  care  cl  you." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  little  wooden  brid-e 
crossing  the  stream,  and  Mackenzie  and  Ingram  had  got  to 
the  inn,  where  they  itood  in  front  of  the  door  in  the  moon- 
light. Belort  Msrending  the  steps  of  the  bridge,  Lavender 
without  pausing  in  his  speech,  took  Sheila's  hand  and  said 
suddenly  ;  -•  >.ow,  don't  let  me  alarm  you,  Sheila,  but  sup- 
pose  at  some  distant  day-as  far  away  as  you  please— I  came 
and^ked  you  to  let  me  be  your  companion  then  and  always 
wouldn't  you  try  ?"  ^i^d^^b, 

She  looked  up  with  a  startled  glance  of  fear  in  her  eves 
and  withdrew  her  hand  from  him.  ' 

"No,  don't  be  frightened,"  he  said,  quite  gently  "I 
doD  t  ask  you  for  any  promise.  Sheila,  you  must  know  I 
love  you— ycu  must  have  seen  it.  Will  you  not  let  me  come 
to  you  at  some  future  time-a  long  way  off-that  you  may 
tell  me  then  ?     Won't  you  try  to  do  that  ?" 

There  was  more  in  the  tone  of  his  voice  than  in  his  wo^ds 
Ihe  girl  stood  irresolute  for  a  second  or  two,  regarding  him 
With  a  strange,  wistful,  earnest  look  ;  and  then  a  great  gen- 
tleness came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  put  out  her  hand  to  him 
and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "perhaps." 

But  there  was  something  so  grave  and  simple  about  her 
manner  at  this  moment  that  he  dared  not  somehow  receive 
It  as  a  lover  receives  the  first  admission  of  love  from  the  lios 
of  a  maiden.  There  had  been  something  of  a  strange  inquiry 
m  her  face  as  she  regarded  him  for  a  second  or  two-  and 
now  that  her  eyes  were  bent  on  the  ground,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  she  was  trying  to  realize  the  full  effect  of  the  concession 
she  had  made.  He  would  not  let  her  think.  He  took  her 
hand  and  raised  it  respectfully  to  his  lips,  and  then  he  led 
her  forward  to  the  bridge.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  between 
them  while  they  crossed  the  shining  space  of  moonlight  to 
the  shadow  of  the  house;  and  as  they  went  in-doors  he  caught 
but  one  glimpse  of  her  eye?,  and  they  were  friendly  and  kmd 
toward  him,  but  evidently  troubled.  Hcsaw  no  more  that  nif^hf 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  97 

So  he  liLid  asked  Sheila  to  be  his  wife,  and  she  had  given 
him  some  timid  encouragement  as  to  the  future.  Many  a  time 
within  these  last  few  days  had  he  sketched  out  an  imaginative 
picture  of  the  scene.  He  was  familiar  with  the  passionate 
rapture  of  lovers  on  the  stage,  in  books,  and  in  pictures;  and 
he  had  described  himself  (10  himself)  asintoxicated  with  joy, 
anxious  to  let  the  whole  world  know  of  his  good  fortune,  and 
above  all  to  confide  the  tidings  of  his  happiness  to  his  con- 
stant friend  and  companion.  But  now,  as  he  sat  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  he  almost  feared  to  be  spoken  to  by  the  two 
men  who  sat  at  the  table  with  steaming  glasses  before  them. 
He  dared  not  tell  Ingram:  he  had  no  wish  to  tell  him,  even  if 
he  had  got  him  alone.  And  as  he  sat  there  and  recalled  the 
incident  that  had  just  occurred  by  the  side  of  the  little  bridge, 
he  could  not  wholly  understand  its  meaning.  There  had 
been  none  of  the  eagerness,  the  coyness,  the  tumult  of  joy  he 
had  expected  ;  all  he  could  remember  clearly  was  the  long 
look  that  the  large,  earnest,  troubled  eyes  had  fixed  upon  him, 
while  the  girl's  face,  grown  pale  in  the  moonlight,  seemed 
somehow  ghost-like  and  strange. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

AN   INTERMEDDLER. 

But  in  the  morning  all  these  idle  fancies  fled  with  the  life 
■and  color  and  freshness  of  a  new  day.  Loch  Barvas  was 
ruffled  into  a  dark  blue  by  the  Westerly  wind,  and  doubtless 
the  sea  out  there  was  running  in,  green  and  cold ,  to  the  shore. 
The  sunlight  was  warm  about  the  house.  The  trout  were 
leaping  in  the  shallow  brown  streams,  and  here  and  there  a 
white  butterfly  fluttered  across  the  damp  meadows.  Was  not 
that  Duncan  down  by  the  river,  accompanied  by  Ingram? 
There  was  a  glimmer  of  a  rod  in  the  sunshine;  the  two 
poachers  were  after  trout  for  Sheila's  breakfast. 

Lavender  dressed,  went  outside  and  looked  about  for  the 
nearest  way  down  to  the  stream.  He  wished  to  have  a  chance 
of  saying  a  word  to  his  friend  before  Sheila  or  her  father 
should  appear.  And  at  last  he  thought  he  could  do  no  better 
than  go  across  to  the  bridge,  and  so  make  his  way  down  to 
the  banks  of  the  river. 


98  A    PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

"What  a  fresh  morning  it  was,  with  all  sorts  of  sweet  scent* 
in  the  air  !  And  here,  sure  enough,  was  a  pretty  picture  in 
the  early  light — a  young  girl  coming  over  the  bridge  carry- 
ing a  load  of  green  grass  on  her  back.  What  would  shesay  if 
he  asked  her  to  stop  for  a  moment  that  he  might  sketch  her 
pretty  costume?  Her  head-dress  was  a  scarlet  handkerchief, 
tied  behind;  she  wore  a  tight-fitting  bodice  of  cream-white 
flannel  and  petticoats  of  gray  flannel,  while  she  had  a  waist- 
belt  and  pouch  of  brilliant  blue.  Did  she  know  of  these 
harmonies  of  color  or  of  the  picturesqueness  of  her  appear- 
ance as  she  came  across  the  bridge  in  the  sunlight?  As  she 
drew  near  she  stared  at  the  stranger  with  the  big,  dumb  eyes 
of  a  wild  animal.  There  was  no  fear,  only  a  sort  of  sur- 
prised observation  in  them.  And  as  she  passed  she  uttered, 
without  a  smile,  some  brief  and  laconic  salutation  in  Gaelic, 
which,  of  course,  the  young  man  could  not  understand.  He 
raised  his  cap,  however,  and  said  "  Good  morning  !"  and 
went  on,  with  a  fixed  resolve  to  learn  all  the  Gaelic  that 
Duncan  could  teach  him. 

Surely  the  tall  keeper  was  in  excellent  spirits  this  morning. 
Long  before  he  drew  near,  Lavender  could  hear,  in  the  still 
of  the  morning,  that  he  was  telling  stories  about  John  the 
Piper,  and  of  his  adventures  in  such  distant  parts  as  Portree 
and  Oban,  and  even  in  Glasgow. 

"  And  it  was  Allan  M'Gillivray,  of  Styornoway,"  Duncan 
was  saying,  as  he  industriously  whipped  the  shallow  runs  of 
the  stream,  "will  go  to  Glasgow  with  John;  and  they  vvent 
through  ta  Crinan  Canal.  Wass  you  through  ta  Crinaa 
Canal,  sir  ?" 

"  Many  a  time." 

**  Ay,  jist  that.  And  I  hef  been  told  it  iss  like  a  river  with 
ta  sides  o'  a  house  to  it ;  and  what  would  Allan  care  for  a 
thing  like  that,  when  he  hass  been  to  America  more  than 
twice  or  four  times  ?  And  it  wass  when  he  fell  into  the  canal, 
he  was  ferry  nearly  trooned  for  all  that;  and  when  they  pulled 
him  to  ta  shore  he  wass  a  ferry  angry  man.  And  this  iss 
what  John  says  that  Allan  will  say  when  he  wass  on  the  side 
of  the  canal:  '  Kott,'  says  he,  '  if  I  was  trooned  here,  I  would 
show  my  face  in  Styornoway  no  more.'  But  perhaps  it  iss 
not  true,  for  he  will  tell  many  lies,  does  John  the  Piper,  to 
hef  a  laugh  at  a  man." 

"The  Crinan  Canal  is  not  to  be  despised,   Duncan,"  said 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE, 


99 


Inqrara,  who  was  sitting  on  the  red  sand  of  the  bank,  "when 
you  are  in  it." 

"And  do  you  know  what  John  says  that  Allan  will  say  to 
him  tie  first  time  they  went  ashore  at  Glasgow?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't." 

"  It  was  many  years  ago,  before  that  Allan  will  be  going 
many  t  mes  to  America,  and  he  will  neffer  hef  seen  such  fine 
shops  and  ta  big  houses  and  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  pto- 
gle,  every  one  with  shoes  on  their  feet.  And  he  will  say  to 
John,  'John,  ef  I  had  known  in  time  I  should  hef  been 
bo^^n  here.'  But  no  one  will  believe  it  Ifs  true,  he  is  such  a 
teffle  of  a  liar,  that  John;  and  he  will  hef  some  stories  about 
Mr.  JMackenzie  himself,  as  I  hef  been  told,  that  he  will  tell 
when  he  goes  to  Stycrnoway.  But  John  is  a  ferry  cunning 
fellow,  and  will  not  tell  any  such  stories  in  Borva." 

"  I  suppose  if  he  did,  Duncan,  you  would  dip  him  in 
Loch  Roag." 

"  Oh,  there  iss  more  than  one,"  said  Duncan,  with  a  grim 
twinkle  in  his  eye — "  there  iss  more  than  one  that  would  hef 
a  joke  with  him  if  he  was  to  tell  stories  about  Mr.  Macken- 
ze." 

Lavender  had  been  standing  listening,  unknown  to  both. 
He  now  went  forward  and  bade  them  good-morning,  and 
then,  having  had  a  look  at  the  trout  that  Duncan  had  caught, 
pulled  Ingram  up  from  the  bank,  put  his  arm  in  his  and 
walked  away  wiih  him. 

"Ingram," he  said,  suddenly,  with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug, 
"  you  know  I  always  come  to  you  when  I'm  in  a  fix.'' 

"  I  suppose  you  do,"  said  the  other,  "and  you  are  always 
welcome  to  whatever  help  I  can  give  you.  But  sometimes  it 
seems  to  me  you  ruth  into  fixes  with  the  sort  of  notion  that  I 
am  responsible  for  getting  you  out." 

"  I  can  assure  you  nothing  of  the  kind  is  the  case.  I  could 
not  be  so  ungrateful.  However,  in  the  meantime — that  i- — 
the  fact  is,  I  asked  Sheila  last  night  if  she  should  marry  me." 

*'The  devil  you  did  !" 

Ingram  dropped  his  companion's  arm  and  stood  looking 
at  him. 

"Well,  I  knew  you  would  be  angry,"  said  the  younger 
man  in  a  tone  of  apology.  "  And  I  know  I  have  been  too 
precipitate,  but  I  thonght  of  the  short  time  we  should  be 
ren^iining  here,  and  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  an  explana- 


lOO  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

tion  made  at  an  another  time;  and  it  was  really  only  to  give 
her  a  hint  as  to  my  own  feelings  that  I  spoke.  I  could  not 
bear  to  wait  any  longer." 

"Never  mind  about  yourself,"  said  Ingram,  somewhat 
curtly.    "  What  did  Sheila  say  ?" 

"  Well,  nothing  definite.  Wnat  couM  you  expect  a  girl  to 
say  after  so  short  an  acquaintance  ?  But  this  I  can  tell  you, 
that  the  proposal  is  not  altogether  distasteful  to  her,  and  that 
I  have  permission  to  speak  to  her  at  some  future  time,  when 
we  have  known  each  other  longer." 

"You  have?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  quite  sure?" 

"  Certain." 

"There  is  no  mistake  about  her  silence,  for  example,  that 
mi^'it  have  led  you  into  misinterpreting  her  wishes  alto- 
gether?'' 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind  is  possible.  Of  course  I  could  not 
ask  tlie  girl  for  any  promise,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  All  I 
sske  1  was,  whether  she  would  allow  me  at  some  future  time 
t  J  a  k  her  more  definitely;  and  I  am  so  well  satisfied  with  her 
reply  that  I  am  convinced  I  shall  marry  her." 

*•'  And  is  this  the  fix  you  wish  me  to  help  you  out  of?  "  said 
Ingram,  rather  coldly. 

"Now,  Ingram,"said  the  younger  man  in  penitential  tones, 
*'  don't  cut  up  rough  about  it.  You  know  what  I  mean.  Per- 
haps I  have  been  hasty  and  inconsiderate  about  it  ;  but  one 
thing  you  may  be  sure,  that  Sheila  will  never  have  to  com- 
plain of  me  if  she  marries  me.  You  say  I  don't  know  her  yet, 
but  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  before  we  are  married.  I 
don't  propose  to  carry  her  off  to-morrow  morning.  Now 
Ingram,  you  know  what  I  mean  about  helping  me  in  the  fix- 
helping  me  with  her  father  you  know,  and  with  herself,  for 
the  matter  of  that.  You  can  do  anything  with  her,  she'  ha; 
such  a  belief  in  you.  You  should  hear  how  she  talks  of  you— 
you  never  heard  anything  like  it." 

It  was  an  innocent  bit  of  flattery,  and  Ingram  smiled  good- 
naturedly  at  the  boy's  ingenuousness.  After  all,  was  he  not 
more  loveable  and  more  sincere  in  this  little  bit  of  simple 
craff,  used  in  the  piteousness  of  his  appeal,  than  when  he  was 
givnig  himself  the  airs  of  a  man-aboJl-town,  and  talking  of 
women  in  a  fashion  which,  to  do  him  justice,  expressed  no- 
thing of  his  real  sentiments? 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  lOI 

Ingram  walked  on,  and  said'„Ui  ;h4s;slV/W  and.  dv'iiberate 
way,  "You  know  I  opposed  ihis. project .9fy9urs  froni  the 
first.  I  don't  think  you  haw;  ac(.6d:  iaiiiy  by  'Sn>;ila  o/  her 
father,  or  myself  who  brought  you  out  here'.  B'it  if  Sheila 
1  a=;  been  drawn  into  it,  why,  then,  the  whole  affair  is  altered, 
and  we've  got  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business." 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  say  that,'' exclaimed  the  younger 
man  with  a  brighter  light  appearing  on  h's  face.  "You  may 
call  me  all  the  hard  names  you  hke  ;  I  deserve  them  all,  and 
more.  But  then,  as  you  say,  since  Sheila  is  in  it,  you'll  do 
your  best,  won't  you?" 

Frank  Lavender  could  not  make  our  why  the  taciturn 
and  sallow-fact  d  man  walking  beside  him  seemed  to  be 
greatly  amused  by  this  speech,  but  he  was  in  no  humor 
to  take  offence.  He  knew  that  once  Ingram  had  promased 
him  his  help  he  would  not  lack  all  the  advocacy,  the  advice, 
and  even  the  money — should  that  become  necessary — that  a 
warm-hearted  and  disinterested  friend  could  offer.  Many 
and  many  a  time  Ingram  had  helped  him,  and  now  he  was  to 
come  10  his  a'^sis^ance  in  the  most  serious  crisis  of  his  life. 
Ingram  wouM  remove  Sheila's  doub's.  Ingram  would  per- 
suade old  M-ickenzie  that  girls  had  to  get  married  some 
time  or  other,  and  that  bheila  ought  to  live  in  London.  In- 
gram won!  I  be  commissioned  to  break  the  news  to  Mrs.  Lav- 
ender. But  here,  when  the  young  man  thought  of  the  inter- 
view with  his  aunt  which  he  would  have  to  encounter,  a  cold 
shiver  passed  through  his  frame.  He  would  not  think  of  it. 
He  woid  i  enjoy  the  present  hour.  Difhculties  only  grew  the 
bigger  tiie  more  they  were  looked  at;  when  they  were  left 
to  ihemtelves  they  frequently  disappeared.  It  was  another 
proof  of  Ingram's  kindness  that  he  had  not  even  mentioned 
the  old  lady  down  in  Kensington  who  was  likely  to  ha\e 
something  to  say  about  this  marriage. 

"There  are  a  great  many  difficulties  in  the  way,"  said 
Ingram,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lavender,  with  much  eagerness,  "but  then, 
look  !  You  may  be  sure  that  if  we  get  over  these.  Sheila 
will  know  well  who  managed  it,  and  she  will  not  be  un- 
grateful to  you,  I  think.  If  we  ever  should  be  married  I 
am  certain  she  will  always  look  on  you  as  her  greatest 
friend." 

"  It  is  a  big  bribe,"  Slid  tlie  elder  man,   perhaps   a   trifle 


I02  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

sadly;  and  Lavender  looked  at  him  with  some  vague  return 
of  a  suspicio?!  tliat  some  t.irae- or  other  Ingram  must  him- 
self haver  been  In  love  With  Shfila. 

They  returned  to  the  inn,  where  they  found  Mackenzie 
hu-^y  with  a  heap  of  letters  and  newspapers  that  had  been 
Sent  across  to  him  from  Stornoway.  The  whole  of  the 
breakfast-table  was  littered  with  wrappers  and  big  blue  en- 
velopes; wb.ere  v.^s  She. la,  who  usuaJly  waited  on  her  father 
at  such  times  to  keep  his  affairs  iu  oruer? 

Sheila  was  outside,  and  Lavender  s-iw  her  through  the 
op-n  window.  Was  she  not  waiting  for  him,  that  she  should 
pace  up  and  down  by  her?elf,  w:th  her  face  turned  away 
from  the  house?  He  immcd.ately  v/ent  out  and  went  over 
to  her,  and  she  turned  to  him  as  he  approached.  He  fan- 
cied she  looked  a  trifle  pale,  and  far  less  bright  and  joyous 
than  the  ordinary  Sheila. 

"  Mr.  Lavender,"  she  said,  walking  away  from  the  house, 
"  I  wish  very  much  to  speak  to  you  for  a  moment.  Last 
night  it  Tv^as  all  a  misfortune  that  I  did  not  understand;  and 
I  wish  you  to  forget  that  a  woid  was  ever  spoken  about  that." 
Her  head  v/as  bent  down  and  her  speech  was  low  and 
broken  ;  what  she  failed  to  explain  in  words  her  manner 
explained  for  her.  But  her  companion  said  to  her,  with 
alarm  and  surprise  in  his  tone:  "  Why,  Sheila!  You  cannot 
be  so  cruel!  Surely  you  need  not  feel  any  embarrassment 
through  so  slight  a  promise.  It  pledges  you  to  nothing — it 
leaves  you  quite  free;  and  some  day,  if  I  come  and  ask  you 
then  a  question  I  have  n'>t  asked  you  yet,  then  will  be  time 
enough  to  give  me  an  answer." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  sairl  the  girl,  obviously  in  great  distress, 
"  I  cann  )t  do  that.  It  is  unjust  to  you  to  let  you  think  of  it 
and  hope  about  it.  It  was  last  n'ght  everything  was  strange 
to  me — I  did  not  understand  then — but  I  have  thought  about 
it  all  the  night  through,  and  now  I  know." 

"Sheila!"  called  her  father  from  the  inside  of  the  inn, 
and  she  turned  to  go. 

"  But  you  do  not  ask  that,  do  you?"  he  said.  "  You  are 
only  frightened  a  little  bit  just  now,  but  that  will  go  av/ay. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  frightened  about.  You  have  been 
thinking  over  it.  and  imagining  impossible  things;  you  have 
been  thinking  of  leaving  Borva  ?  lojcther — " 

"Oh,  that  ^  can  never  do  !"  the  said,  with  a  pathetic 
earnestness. 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  I03 

"  But  why  think  of  such  a  thing?"  he  said.  "You  need 
not  look  at  all  the  possible  troubles  of  life  when  you  take  such 
a  simple  sti  p  as  this.  Sheila,  don't  be  hasty  in  any  such  re- 
solve; you  may  be  sure  all  the  gloomy  things  you  have  been 
thinking  of  will  disappear  when  we  get  close  to  them.  And 
this  is  such  a  simple  thing.  I  don't  ask  you  to  say  you  will 
be  my  wife — I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  yet — but  I  have  only 
asked  permission  of  you  to  let  me  think  of  it;  and  even  Mr. 
Jn^^r  :m  sees  no  great  harm  in  that." 

'•Does /^^  knov/?"  she  said,  with  a  start  of  surprise  and 
fear. 

"Yes,''  said  Lavender,  wishing  he  had  bitten  his  tongue 
in  two  before  he  had  uttered  the  word.  "You  know  we 
have  no  secrets  from  each  other;  and  to  whom  could  I  go 
for  advice  but  to  your  oldest  friend  ?" 

"And  what  did  he  say?"  she  asked,  with  a  strange  look 
in  her  eyes. 

"Well,  he  sees  a  great  many  difficulties,  but  he  thinks  they 
will  easily  be  got  over." 

"  Then,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  again  cast  down  and  a 
certain  sadness  in  her  tone,  "  I  must  explain  to  him,  too,  and 
tell  him  I  had  no  understanding  of  what  I  said  last  night." 

"  Sheila,  you  won't  do  that !"  urged  the  young  man.  "  It 
means  nothing — it  pledges  you  to  nothing." 

"  Sheila  !  Sheila  ! '  cried  her  father,  cheerily,  from  the 
window,  "  come  in  and  let  us  hef  our  breakfast." 

"Yes,  papa,''  said  the  girl,  and  she  went  into  the  house, 
followed  by  her  companion. 

But  how  coul'J  she  find  an  opportunity  of  making  this  ex- 
planation? Shortly  after  breakfast  the  wagonette  was  at  the 
door  of  the  little  Barvas  inn,  and  Sheila  came  cut  of  the  house 
and  took  her  place  in  it  with  an  unusual  quiet i  ess  of  manner 
and  hopelessness  of  look.  Ingram,  siiiing  opposite  to  her, 
and  knowing  nothing  of  what  had  taken  place,  fancied  that 
this  was  but  an  expression  of  girlish  timidity,  and  that  it 
was  his  business  to  interest  her  and  amuse  her  until  she  should 
forget  the  scrangeness  and  newness  of  her  position.  Nay,  as 
he  liad  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  mailers  as  they  stood, 
and  as  he  b.  lieved  that  Sheila  had  half  confessed  to  a  special 
liking  for  his  friend  from  the  South,  what  more  fi-.ting  thing 
could  he  do  than  endeavor  to  place  Lavender  in  the  most  fav- 
o  able  lis^ht  in  her  cvts?    IJc  bf  t>.in  to  talk  of  ail  the  brilliant 


'"t  A    PRII.CESS    OF    THULE. 

and  successful  things  the  young  man  had  done  as  fully  as  he 
could  before  himself.  He  contrived  to  introduce  pretty 
anecdotes  of  Lavender's  generosity;  and  there  were  plenty 
of  these,  for  the  young  fellow  had  never  a  thought  of  conse- 
quences if  he  was  touched  by  a  tale  of  distress,  and  if  he  could 
help  the  sufferer  either  with  his  own  or  any  one  else's  money 
Ingram  talked  of  all  their  excursions  together,  in  Devonshire 
m  Brutany  and  elsewhere,  to  impress  on  Sheila  how  well  he 
knew  his  friend  and  how  long  their  intimacy  had  lasted.  At 
hrst  the  girl  was  singularly  reserved  and  silent,  but  somehow, 
as  pleasant  recollections  were  multiplied,  and  as  Lavender 
seemed  to  have  been  always  the  associate  and  companion  of 
this  old  friend  of  hers,  some  brighter  expression  came  into 
her  tace  and  she  grew  more  interested.  Lavender,  not  know- 
ing whether  or  not  to  take  her  decision  of  that  morning  as 
hnal,  and  not  wholly  perceiving  the  aim  of  this  kindly  chat 
on  the  part  of  his  friend,  began  to  see,  at  least,  that  Sheila 
was  pleased  to  hear  the  two  men  help  out  each  other's  stories 
about  their  pedestrian  excursions,  and  that  she  at  last  grew 
bold  enough  to  look  up  and  meet  his  eyes  in  a  timid  fashion 
when  she  asked  him  a  question. 

So  they  drove  along  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  the  level  and 
well-made  road  leading  them  through  miles  and  miles  of 
rough  moorland,  with  here  and  there  a  few  huts  or  a  sheep- 
told  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  undulating  sky-Hne.  Here 
and  there,  too,  there  were  great  cuttings  of  the  peat-moss, 
with  a  thm  hne  of  water  in  the  foot  of  the  deep,  black 
trenches.  Sometimes,  again,  they  would  escape  altogether 
Irom  any  traces  of  human  habitation,  and  Duncan  would  grow 
excited  m  pointing  out  to  Miss  Sheila  the  young  grouse  that 
had  run  off  the  road  into  the  heather,  where  they  stood  and 
eyed  the  passing  carriage  with  anything  but  a  frightened  air 
And  while  Mackenzie  hummed  something  resembling  but 
very  vaguely  resembling,  "Love  in  thine  eyes  sits  beaming  " 
and  while  Ingram,  in  his  quiet,  desultory,  and  often  sardonic 
tashion,  amused  the  young  girl  with  stories  of  her  lover's 
bravery  and  kmdness  and  dare-devil  escapades,  the  merry 

/°V °/..     ^  ^''''^'^'  ^^^'  ^^"'^  t°  the  bells  on  their  necks,  the 
resh  West  wind  blew  a  cloud  of  white  dust  away  over  the  moor- 
land  behind  them,  there  was  a  blue  sky  shining  all  around 
mem,  and  the  blue  Atlantic  basking  in  the  light. 

They  stopped  a  few  moments  at  both  the  hamlets  of  Suain- 


A     I'RINCESS    OF    THULE.  105 

abost  and  Tabost  to  allow  Sheila  to  pay  a  hurried  visit  to 
one  or  two  of  the  huts,  while  Mackenzie,  laying  hold  of 
some  of  the  fishermen  he  knew,  got  them  to  show  Lavender 
the  curing-house,  in  which  the  young  gentleman  professed 
himself  profoundly  interested.  They  also  visited  the  school- 
house,  and  Lavender  found  himself  beginning  to  look  upon 
a  two-storied  building  with  windows  as  something  imposing, 
and  a  decided  triumph  of  human  skill  and  enterprise.  But 
what  was  the  school-house  of  Tabost  to  the  grand  building 
at  the  Butt?  They  had  driven  away  from  the  high-road  by 
a  path  leading  through  long  and  sweet-smelling  pastures  of 
Du  ch  clover;  they  had  got  up  from  these  sandy  swathts  to 
a  table-land  of  rock;  and  here  and  there  they  got  glimpses 
of  fearful  precipices  leading  sheer  down  to  the  boiling  and 
dashing  sea.  The  curious  contortions  of  the  rocks,  the 
sharp  needles  of  them  springing  in  isolated  pillars  from  out 
of  the  water,  the  roar  of  the  eddying  currents  that  swept 
through  the  chasms  and  dashed  against  the  iron-bound 
sh'^re,  the  wild  sea-birds  that  flew  about  and  screamed  ever 
the  rushing  waves  and  the  surge,  naturally  enough  drew  the 
attention  of  the  strangers  altoge  her  away  from  the  land;  and 
it  was  with  a  start  of  surprise  thty  found  themselves  before 
an  immense  mass  of  yellow  stone-wurk — walls,  house,  and 
tower — that  shone  in  the  sunlight.  And  here  were  the 
lighthouse-keeper  and  his  wife,  delighted  to  see  strange  faces 
and  most  hospitably  inclined;  insomuch  that  Lavender,  who 
cared  little  for  luncheon  at  any  time,  Avas  constrained  to 
take  as  much  bread  and  cheese  and  butter  and  whisky  as 
would  have  made  a  ploughman's  dinner.  It  was  a  strange 
sort  of  a  meal  this,  away  out  at  the  end  of  the  world,  as  it 
were.  The  enug  little  room  might  have  been  in  the  Mary- 
k  bone  road;  there  were  photographs  about,  a  gay  label  on 
the  whisky  bottle,  and  othtr  signs  of  an  a  ivanced  civiliza- 
tion; but  outside  nothing  but  the  wild  precipices  of  the 
coast,  a  surging  sea  that  seemed  almost  to  surround  the 
place,  the  wild  screaming  of  the  sea-birds,  and  a  single  ship 
appearing  like  a  mere  speck  on  the  Northern  horizon. 

They  had  not  noticed  the  wind  much  as  they  drove  along; 
but  now,  when  they  went  out  on  the  high  table-land  of  rock, 
it  seemed  to  be  blowing  half  a  gale  across  the  sea.  The  sun- 
light sparkled  on  the  glass  of  the  1  ghthouse,  snd  the  great 
ycilow  sha^c  of  s  one  s  :e  ciied  away  upward   into  a   \  eilect 


Io6  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

blue.  As  clear  a  blue  lay  far  beneath  them  when  the  sea 
came  rushing  in  among  the  lofty  crags  and  sharp  pinnacles  of 
rock,  b,.rsting  into  foam  at  their  feet  and  sending  long  jets  of 
v/hite  spray  up  into  the  air.  In  front  of  the  great  wall  of  rock 
the  sea-birds  Avheeled  and  screamed,  and  on  the  points  of  some 
of  tlie  islands  stool  several  scarts,  motionl 'ss  figures  of  jet 
black  on  the  soft  brown  and  green  of  the  r^ck.  And  what 
was  this  island  they  looked  down  upon  from  over  one  of  the 
bays?  Surely  a  mighty  reproduction  by  Nature  herself  of 
the  Sphynx  of  the  Egyptian  plains.  C  )uid  anything  have 
been  more  striking  and  unexpected  aud  impres-ive  than 
the  sudden  discovery  of  this  great  mass  of  rock  resting  in  the 
wild  sea,  its  hooded  head  turned  away  toward  the  North  and 
hidden  from  the  spectator  on  land,  its  gigantic  bulk  sur- 
rounded by  a  foam  of  breakers?  Lavender,  v/iih  his  teeth 
set  hard  against  tiie  wind,  must  needs  take  down  the  outlmes 
cf  thi3  strange  scene  upon  paper,  while  Sheila  crouched,  at 
her  father's  side  for  shelter,  and  Ingram  was  chiefly  engaged 
in  holding  on  to  his  cap. 

*•'  It  blows  here  a  bit,'  said  Lavender  amid  the  roar  of  the 
waves.  '^  I  suppose  in  the  Winter-iime  the  sea  will  some- 
times break  across  this  place  ?*' 

"  Ay,  and  over  the  top  of  the  light-house,  too,"  said  Mac- 
kenzie with  a  laugh,  as  though  he  v/as  rather  proud  of  the 
way  his  native  seas  behaved. 

"  Sheila,"  said  Ingram,  "  I  never  S2i-w  you  take  refuge  from 
the  wind  before." 

''It  is  because  we  will  be  standing  still,"  said  the  girl, 
with  a  smile  which  was  scarcely  visible,  because  she  had  half 
hidden  her  face  in  her  father's  great  gray  beard.  "But 
when  Mr.  Lavender  is  finished  we  will  go  down  to  the  great 
hole  in  the  rocks  that  you  will  have  seen  before,  and  per- 
haps he  will  make  a  picture  of  that,  too." 

"  You  don  t  nif-an  to  say  you  would  go  down  there.  Sheila?" 
said  Ingram,  "  ard  in  this  wind  !" 

"  I  have  been  down  many  times  before." 

•'*  Indeed,  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Sheila,"  said 
her  father;  "you  will  go  back  to  the  hght-house  if  you  like — 
yes,  you  may  do  that — and  I  will  go  down  the  rocks  with 
Mr.  Lavender ;  but  ic  iss  not  for  a  young  lady  to  go  about  among 
the  rucks.  lJ<e  a  fi-.herman's  lad  th.it  wants  the  birds'  eggs  or 
such  nonsense.'*' 


A     PRINCESS      OF      THULE.  107 

It  was  quite  evident  that  Mackenzie  had  very  little  fear  of 
his  daughter  not  being  able  to  accomplish  the  descent  of  the 
rocks  safely  enough ;  it  was  a  matter  of  dignity.  And  so 
Sheila  was  at  length  persuaded  to  go  across  the  plain  to  a 
sheltered  place,  to  await  there  until  the  others  should  clamber 
down  to  the  great  and  naturally-formed  tunnel  through  the 
rocks  that  the  artist  was  to  sketch. 

Lavender  was  ill  at  ease.  He  followed  his  guide  mechan- 
ically as  they  made  their  way,  in  zigzag  fashion,  down  the 
precipitous  slopes  and  over  slippery  plateaus;  and  when  at 
last  he  came  in  sight  of  the  mighty  arch,  the  long  cavern, 
and  the  glimmer  of  sea  and  shore  that  could  be  seen  through 
it,  he  began  to  put  down  the  outlines  of  the  picture  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  but  with  little  interest  in  the  matter, 
Ingram  was  sitting  on  the  bare  rocks  beside  him,  Mackenzie 
was  some  distance  off — should  he  tell  his  friend  of  what 
Sheila  had  said  in -the  morning?  Strict  honesty,  perhaps, 
demanded  as  much,  but  the  temptation  to  say  nothing  was 
great.  For  it  was  evident  that  Ingram  was  now  well  inclined 
to  the  project,  and  would  do  his  best  to  help  it  on;  whereas, 
if  once  he  knew  that  Sheila  had  resolved  against  it,  he,  too, 
might  take  some  sudden  step — such  as  insisting  on  their  im- 
mediate return  to  the  m'diand — which  would  settle  the  mat- 
ter forever.  Sheila  had  said  she  would  herself  make  the 
necessary  explanation  to  Ingram,  but  she  had  not  done  so  : 
perhaps  she  might  lack  the  courage  or  an  opportunity  to  do 
so,  and  in  the  meantime  was  not  the  interval  altogether 
favorable  to  his  chances?  Doubtless  she  was  a  little  fright- 
ened at  first.  She  would  soon  get  less  timid,  and  would 
relent  and  revoke  her  decision  of  the  morning.  He  would 
not,  at  present  at  any  rate,  say  anything  to  Ingram. 

But  when  they  had  got  up  again  to  the  summit  of  the  rocks, 
an  incident  occurred  that  considerably  startled  him  out  of 
these  vague  and  anxious  speculations.  He  walked  straight 
over  to  the  sheltered  spot  in  which  Sheila  was  waiting.  The 
rushing  of  the  wind  doubtitss  drowned  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps, so  that  he  came  on  her  unawares;  and  on  seeing  him 
she  rose  suddenly  from  the  rock  on  which  she  had  been  sit- 
ting, with  some  effort  to  hide  her  face  away  from  him.  But 
he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  in  her  eyes  that  filled 
him  with  remorse. 

"Sheila,"  he  said,  going  forward  to  her,  "what  is  the  mat- 
ter ?    What  are  you  unhappy  about  ?" 


Io8  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

She  could  not  answer;  she  held  her  face  turned  from  him 
and  cast  down;  and  then,  seeing  her  father  and  Ingram  in 
the  distance,  she  set  out  to  follow  them  to  the  lighthouse. 
Lavender  walking  by  her  side,  and  wondering  how  he  could 
deal  with  the  distress  that  was  only  too  clearly  written  on 
her  face. 

^'I  kr.ow  it  is  I  who  have  grieved  you,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  and  I  am  very  sorry.  But  if  you  will  tell  me  what  I 
can  do  to  remove  this  unhappiness  I  will  do  it  now.  Shall  I 
consider  our  talking  together  of  last  night  as  if  it  had  not 
taken  place  at  all  ?" 

"•  Yes,"  she  said  in  as  low  a  voice,  but  clear  and  sad,  and 
determined  in  its  tone. 

"And  I  shall  speak  no  more  to  you  about  this  affair  until 
I  go  away  altogether  ?" 

And  again  she  signified  her  assent,  gravely  and  firmly. 

"  And  then,"  he  said,  "you  will  soon  forge^  all  about  it, 
for,  of  course,  I  shall  never  come  back  to  Lewis  agam." 

"Never?" 

The  word  had  escaped  her  unwillingly,  and  it  was  accom- 
panied by  a  quick  upturning  of  the  face  and  a  frightened 
look  in  the  beautiful  eyes. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  come  back  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  should  not  wish  you  to  go  way  from  the  Lewis  through 
any  fault  of  mine,  and  say  that  we  should  never  see  you 
again,"  said  the  girl  in  measured  tones,  as  if  she  were  nerving 
herself  to  make  the  admission,  and  yet  fearful  of  saying 
too  much. 

By  this  time  Mackenzie  and  Ingram  had  gone  around  the 
big  wall  of  the  light-house;  there  were  no  human  beings  on 
this  lonely  bit  of  heath  but  themselves.  Lavender  stopped 
her  and  took  her  hand,  and  said,  "Don't  you  see,  Sheila 
how  I  must  never  come  back  to  Lewis  if  all  this  is  to  be  for- 
gotten? And  all  I  want  you  to  say  is,  that  I  may  come 
some  day  to  see  if  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  be  my 
wife.  I  don't  ask  that  yet;  it  is  out  of  the  question,  seeing 
how  short  a  time  you  have  known  anything  about  me,  and  I 
cannot  wish  you  to  trust  me  as  I  can  trust  you.  It  is  a  very 
little  thing  I  ask — only  to  give  me  a  chance  at  some  future 
time,  and  then,  if  you  don't  care  for  me  sufficiently  to  marry 
me,  or  if  anything  stands  in  the  way,  all  you  need  do  is  to 
L,-?nd  me  a  single  word,  and  that  Will  suffice.     This  is  no  ter- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  I09 

rible  thing  that  I  beg  from  you,   Sheila.     You  needn't  Le 
afraid  of  it." 

But  she  was  afraid;  there  was  nothing  but  fear  and  doubt 
and  grief  in  her  eyes,  as  she  gazed  in  the  unknown  world 
laid  open  before  her. 

"  Can't  you  ask  someone  to  tell  you  that  it  is  nothing 
dreadful — Mr.  Ingram,  for  example  ?" 

"  I  could  not." 

"Your  papa,  then,"  he  said,  driven  to  this  desperate  re- 
source by  his  anxiety  to  save  her  from  pain. 

"  Not  yet — not  just  yet,"  she  said,  almost  wildly;  "  for 
how  could  I  explain  to  him  ?  He  would  ask  me  what  my 
wishes  were;  what  could  I  say?  I  do  not  know;  I  cannot 
tell  myself;  and — and — I  have  no  mother  to  ask."  And  here 
all  the  strain  of  self-control  gave  way,  and  the  girl  burst  into 
tears. 

**  Sheila,  dear  Sheila,"  he  said,  "why  don't  you  trust  your 
own  heart,  and  let  that  be  your  guide  ?  Won't  you  say  this  one 
word.  Yes,  and  tell  me  that  I  am  to  come  back  to  Lewis  some 
day,  and  ask  to  see  you,  and  get  a  message  from  one  look  of 
your  eyes?     Sheila,  may  not  1  come  back?" 

If  there  was  a  reply  it  was  so  low  that  he  scarcely  heard 
it;  but  somehow — v/hether  from  the  small  hand  that  lay  in 
his,  or  from  the  eyes  that  sent  one  brief  message  of  trust  and 
hope  through  their  tears — his  question  was  answered;  and 
from  that  moment  he  felt  no  more  misgivings,  but  let  his  love 
for  Sheila  shine  out  and  blossom  in  whatever  light  of  fancy 
and  imagination  he  could  bring  to  bear  on  it,  without  any 
doubts  as  to  the  future. 

How  the  young  fellow  laughed  and  joked  as  the  party 
drove  away  again  from  the  Butt,  down  the  long  coast-ro..d 
to  Barvas!  He  was  tenderly  respectful  and  a  little  moderate 
in  tone  vi'hen  he  addressed  Sheila,  but  v/ith  the  others  he 
gave  way  to  a  wild  exuberance  of  spirits  that  delighted 
Mackenzie  beyond  measure.  He  told  stories  of  the  odd  old 
gentlemen  of  his  club,  of  their  opinions,  their  wars,  their 
dress.  He  sang  the  song  of  the  Arethusa  and  the  wilds  of 
Lewis  echoed  with  a  cliOrus  which  was  not  just  as  harmoni- 
ous as  it  might  have  been.  He  sang  the  "Jug  of  Punch," 
and  Mackenzie  said  that  was  a  teftle  of  a  good  song.  He 
gave  imitations  of  some  of  Ingram's  companions  at  the 
Board  of  Trade,  and  showed  Sheila  what  the  inside  of  i.  gov- 


no  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

ernment  office  was  like.  He  paid  Mackenzie  the  compli- 
ment of  asking  him  for  a  drop  of  some'.hing  out  of  his  flask, 
and  in  return  he  insisted  on  the  Kin;^  smoking  a  cigar  which, 
in  point  of  age  and  sweetness  and  fragrance,  was  really  the 
sort  of  a  cigar  you  would  naturally  give  to  the  man  whose 
only  daughter  you  wanted  to  marry. 

Ingram  understood  all  this,  and  was  pleased  to  see  the 
happy  look  that  Sheila  wore.  He  talked  to  her  with  even 
a  greater  assumption  than  usual  of  fatherly  fondness;  and  if 
she  was  a  little  shy,  was  it  not  because  she  was  conscious  of 
s )  great  a  secret  ?  He  was  even  unusually  complaisant  to 
Lavender,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  paying  him  indirect 
compliments  that  Sheila  could  overhear. 

"  You  poor  young  things'''  he  seemed  to  be  saying  to 
himself,  "you've  got  all  your  troubles  before  you;  but,  in 
the  meantime  you  can  make  yourselves  as  happy  as  you 
can." 

Was  the  weather  at  last  about  to  break  ?  As  the  afternoon 
wore  on  the  heavens  became  overcast,  for  the  wind  had 
gone  back  from  the  course  of  the  sun,  and  had  brought  up 
great  masses  of  cloud  from  the  rainy  Southwest. 

"  Are  we  going  to  have  a  storm?''  sa'd  Lavender,  looking 
along  the  Southern  sky,  where  the  Barvas  hills  were  mo- 
mentarily growing  blacker  under  the  gathering  darkness 
overhead. 

"Storm?"  said  Mackenzie,  whose  notions  of  what  con- 
stituted a  storm  were  probably  d.fferent  from  those  of  his 
guest.  *'  No,  there  will  be  no  storm.  But  it  is  no  bad  thing 
if  we  get  back  to  Barvas  very  soon," 

Duncan  sent  the  horses  on,  and  Ingram  looked  out  Sheila's 
water-proof  and  the  rugs.  The  Southern  sky  certainly  looktd 
ominous.  There  was  a  strange  intensity  of  color  in  the  daric 
landscape,  from  the  deep  purple  of  the  Barvas  hills,  coming 
forward  to  the  deep  green  of  the  pas:ure-land  around  thciu, 
and  the  rich  reds  and  browns  of  the  heather  and  the  peai- 
cuttings.  At  one  point  of  the  clouded  and  hurrying  sky, 
however,  there  was  a  soft  and  vaporous  line  of  yellow  in  the 
gray;  and  under  that,  miles  away  in  the  West,  a  great  dash  of 
silver  light  struck  upon  the  sea,  and  glowed  there  so  that  the 
eye  could  scarcely  bear  it.  Was  it  the  damp  that  brought 
the  perfumes  of  the  moorlands  so  distinctly  toward  them — 
the  bog-myrtle,  the  v>-ater-mint  and  the  v.'ild  thyme?     Tnerc 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  Ill 

were  no  birds  to  be  heard.  The  crimson  masses  of  heathei 
on  the  gray  rocks  seemed  to  have  grown  richer  and  deeper 
in  color,  and  the  Barvas  hills  had  become  large  and  weird  in 
the  gloom. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  thunder  !"  said  Lavender  to  Sheila. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  looking  frankly  toward  him  with  her 
glad  eyes,  as  though  he  had  pleased  her  by  asking  that  not 
very  striking  question.  And  then  she  looked  around  at  the 
sea  and  the  sky  in  the  South,  and  said  quietly:  "  But  there 
will  be  no  thunder;  it  is  too  much  wind." 

Ingram,  with  a  smile  which  he  could  scarcely  conceal, 
hereupon  remarked,  "  You're  sorry,  Lavender,  I  know. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  shelter  somebody  in  danger,  or  attempt 
a  rescue,  or  do  something  heroic  ?" 

"And  Mr.  Lavender  would  do  thatif  there  was  any  need," 
said  the  girl,  bravely,  "  and  then  it  would  be  nothing  to 
laugh  at." 

"  Sheila,  you  bad  girl  !  how  dare  you  talk  like  that  to 
me  ?"  said  Ingram ;  and  he  put  his  arm  within  hers  and  said 
he  would  tell  her  a  story. 

But  this  race  to  escape  the  storm  was  needless,  for  they 
were  just  getting  within  sight  of  Barvas  when  a  surprising 
change  came  over  ihe  dark  and  thunderous  afternoon.  The 
hurrying  masses  of  cloud  in  the  West  parted  for  a  little 
space,  and  there  was  a  sudden  and  fitful  glimmer  of  a  stormy 
blue  sky.  Then  a  strange  soft  yellow  and  vaporous  light 
shone  across  to  the  Barvas  hills  and  touched  up  palely  the 
great  slopes,  rendering  them  dis'ant,  ethereal  and  cioud-like. 
Then  a  shaft  or  two  of  wild  light  flashed  down  upon 
the  landscape  beside  them.  The  cattle  shone  red  in  the 
brilliant  green  pastures.  The  gray  rocks  glowed  in  th.ir 
setting  of  moss.  The  stream  going  by  Barvas  Inn  was  a 
streak  of  gold  in  its  sandy  bed.  And  then  the  sky  above 
them  broke  into  great  billows  of  cloud — tempestuous  and 
rounded  masses  of  golden  vapor  that  buined  with  the  wild 
glare  of  the  sunset.  The  clear  spaces  in  the  sky  widened, 
and  from  time  to  time  the  wind  sent  ragged  bits  of  yellov/ 
cloud  across  the  shining  blue.  All  the  world  seemed  to  be 
on  fire,  and  the  very  smoke  of  it,  the  majestic  masses  of  vapor 
that  rolled  by  overhead,  burned  with  a  bewildering  glare. 
Then,  as  the  wind  still  blew  hard,  and  kept  veering  around 
to  the  Northwest,  the  fie:ce!y-lit  clouds  weie  driven  over  one- 


112  ■  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE, 

by  one,  leaving  a  pale  and  serene  sky  to  look  down  on  the 
sirikir.g  sun  and  the  sea.  The  Atlantic  caught  the  yellow 
glow  on  its  tumbling  waves,  and  a  deeper  color  stule  across 
the  slopes  and  peaks  of  the  Barvas  hills.  Whither  had  gone 
the  storm  ?  There  were  still  som.e  banks  of  clouds  away  up 
in  the  Northeast,  and  in  the  clear  green  of  the  evening 
sky  they  had  their  distant  grays  and  purples  faintly  tinged 
with  rose. 

"And  so  you  are  anxious  and  frightened,  and  a  litt.e 
pleased  ?  "  said  Ingram  to  Sheila  that  evening,  after  he  had 
tiankly  told  her  what  he  knew,  and  invited  her  further  con- 
fidence. "  That  is  all  I  can  gather  from  you,  but  it  is  enough. 
Now  you  can  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"To  you?"  said  the  girl,  with  a  blush  of  pleasure  and 
surprise. 

"  Yes.  I  like  new  experiences.  I  am  gomg  to  become  an 
intermeddler  now.  I  am  going  to  arrange  this  affair,  and  be- 
come the  negotiator  between  all  the  parties  ;  and  then,  when 
I  have  secured  the  happiness  of  the  whole  of  you,  you  will  all 
set  upon  me  and  beat  me  with  sticks,  and  thrust  me  out  of 
your  houses." 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  Sheila,  looking  down,  "  that  you 
need  have  much  fear  of  that,  Mr. Ingram." 
'*  Is  the  world  going  to  alter  because  of  me  ?  " 
"I  would  rather  not  have  you  try  to  do  anything  that  is 
likely  to  get  you  into  unhappiness,"  she  ^aid. 

"Oh,  but  that  is  absurd.  You  timid  young  folks  can't 
act  for  yourselves.  You  want  agents  and  instruments  that 
have  got  hardened  by  use.  Fancy  the  condition  of  our 
ancestors,  you  know,  before  they  had  the  sense  to  invent 
steel  claws  to  tear  their  food  in  pieces— what  could  they  do 
with  their  fingers?  I  am  going  to  be  your  knife  and  fork. 
Sheila,  and  you'll  see  what  I  shall  carve  out  for  you.  All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  keep  your  spirits  up,  and  believe  that 
nothing  dreadful  is  going  to  take  place  merely  because  some 
day  you  will  be  asked  to  marry.  You  let  things  take  their 
ordinary  course.  Keep  your  spirits  up— don't  neglect  your 
music  or  your  dinner  or  your  poor  people  down  in  Borva- 
post— and  you'll  see  it  will  all  come  right  enough.  In  a  year 
or  two,  or  less  than  that,  you  will  marry  contentedly  and 
happily,  and  your  papa  will  drink  a  good  glass  of  whisky  at 
tlij  wedding  and  m  ke  jokes  about  it,  and  everything  will  be 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  II3 

as  right  as  the  mail.  That's  my  advice;  see  you  attend 
to  it." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  me,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  low  voice. 

"But  if  you  begin  to  cry,  Sheila,  then  I  throw  up  my  du- 
ties. Do  you  hear?  Now  look:  there  goes  Mr.  Lavender 
down  to  the  boat  with  a  bundle  of  rugs,  and  I  suppose  you 
mean  me  to  imperil  my  precious  life  by  sailing  about  these 
rocky  channels  in  the  moonlight?  Come  along  down  to  the 
shore;  and  mind  you  please  your  papa  by  singing  '  Ijove  in 
thine  eyes' with  Mr.  Lavender,  and  if  you  would  add  to 
that  *  The  Minute  Gun  at  Sea,'  why,  you  know,  I  may  as  well 
have  my  little  re  'ards  for  intermeddling  now,  as  I  shall  have 
to  suffer  afterward." 

"  Not  through  n.e,"  said  Sheila,  in  rather  an  uncertain 
voice;  and  then  they  .vent  down  to  the  Maighdean-mhara. 


PART   IV. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"O  TERQUE  QUATERQUE  BEATEI" 

Consider  what  a  task  this  unhappy  man  Ingram  had  volun- 
tarily undertaken!  Here  were  two  young  people  presumably 
in  love.  One  of  them  was  laid  under  suspicion  by  several 
previous  love  affairs,  though  none  of  these,  doubtless,  had 
been  so  serious  as  the  present.  The  other  scarcely  knew  her 
own  mind,  or,  perhaps,  was  afraid  to  question  herself  too 
clo-.ely,  lest  all  the  conflict  between  duty  and  inclination,  with 
its  fears  and  anxieties  and  troubles,  should  be  too  suddenly 
revealed.  Moreover,  this  girl  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  soli- 
tary and  irascible  old  gentleman  living  in  a  remote  island; 
and  Ingram  had  not  only  undertaken  that  the  love  affairs 
of  the  young  folks  should  come  all  right — thus  assuming  a 
responsibility  which  might  have  appalled  the  bravest — but 
was  also  expected  to  inform  the  King  of  Borva  that  his 
daughter  was  £.  jout  to  be  taken  away  from  him. 


114  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

Of  course,  if  Sheila  had  been  a  properly  brought  up 
voung  lady,  nothing  cf  this  sort  would  have  been  necessary. 
We  all  know  what  the  properly  brought  up  young  lady  does 
uiider  such  circumstances.  She  goes  straight  to  her  papa  and 
mamma  and  says,  "  My  dear  papa  and  mamma,  1  have  been 
taught  by  my  various  instructors  that  I  ought  to  have  no 
secrets  from  my  dear  parents  ;  and  I  therefore  hasten  to  lay 
aside  any  little  shyness  or  modesty  or  doubt  of  my  own 
wishes  I  might  feel,  for  the  purpose  of  explaining  to  you  the 
extent  to  which  I  have  become  a  victim  to  the  tender  pas- 
sion, and  of  soliciting  your  advice.  I  also  place  before  you 
these  letters  I  have  received  from  the  gentleman  in  question: 
probably  they  were  seat  in  confidence  to  me,  but  I  must 
banish  any  scruples  that  do  not  coincide  with  my  duty  to 
you.  I  may  say  that  I  respect,  and  even  admire  Mr.  So-and- 
bo  ;  and  I  should  be  unworthy  of  the  care  bestowed  upon 
my  education  by  my  dear  parents,  if  I  wtre  altogether 
insensible  to  the  advantages  of  his  worldly  position.  But 
beyond  this  point  I  am  at  a  loss  to  define  my  sentiments  ; 
and  so  I  ask  you,  my  dear  papa  and  mamma,  fur  permission  to 
study  the  question  for  some  httle  time  longer,  when  I  may  be 
able  to  furnish  you  with  a  more  accurate  report  of  my  feel- 
ings. At  the  same  time,  if  the  interest  I  have  in  this  young 
man  is  likely  to  conflict  with  the  duty  I  owe  to  my  dear 
parents,  I  ask  to  be  informed  of  the  fact  ;  and  I  shall  then 
teach  myself  to  guard  against  the  approach  of  that  insidious 
passion  which  might  make  me  indifferent  to  the  higher  calls 
and  interests  of  life." 

Happy  the  man  who  marries  such  a  woman !  No  agon- 
izing quarrels  and  delirious  reconciliations,  no  piteous  en- 
treaties, and  fits  of  remorse,  and  impetuous  self-sacrifices 
await  him,  but  a  beautiful,  methodical,  placid  life,  as  calm 
and  accurate,  and  steadily  progressive  as  the  multiplication 
table.  His  household  will  be  a  miracle  of  perfect  _  arrange- 
ment. The  relations  between  the  members  of  it  will  be  as 
strictly  defined  as  the  pattern  of  the  paper  on  the  walls.  And 
how  can  a  quarrel  arise  when  a  dissecter  of  the  emotions  is 
close  at  hand  to  say  where  the  divergence  of  opinion  or  in- 
terest began.  And  how  can  a  fit  of  jealousy  be  provoked  in 
the  case  of  a  person  who  will  split  up  her  affections  into  fif- 
teen parts,  give  ten-fifteenths  to  her  children,  three  fifteenths 
to  her  parenis,  and  tne  rcm.iiiidcr  to  her  husband  ?     Should 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  II5 

there  be  any  dismal  fractions  going  about,  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances may  come  in  for  them. 

But  liow  was  Sheila  to  go  to  her  father  and  explain  to  him 
what  she  could  not  explain  to  herself?  She  had  never 
dreamed  of  marriage.  She  had  never  thought  of  having  to 
leave  Borva  and  her  fathe-^'s  house.  But  she  had  some  vague 
feeling  that  in  the  future  lay  many  terrible  possibilities  that 
she  did  not  as  yet  dare  to  look  at — until,  at  least,  she  was 
more  satisfied  as  to  the  present.  And  how  could  she  go  to 
her  father  with  such  a  chaos  of  unformed  wishes  and  fears  to 
place  before  him?  That  such  a  duty  should  have  devolved 
upon  Ingram  was  certainly  odd  enough,  but  it  was  not  her 
doing.  His  knowledge  of  the  position  of  these  young  peo- 
ple was  not  derived  from  her.  But,  having  got  it,  he  had 
himself  asked  her  to  leave  the  whole  affair  in  his  hands,  with 
that  kindness  and  generosity  which  had  more  than  once 
filled  her  heart  with  an  unspeakable  gratitude  toward  him. 

'•'  Well,  you  are  a  good  fellow  !"  said  Lavender  to  him, 
when  he  heard  of  this  decision. 

*-Bah!"  said  the  other  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "I 
mean  to  amuse  myself.  I  shall  m.ove  you  about  like  pieces 
on  a  chess-board,  and  have  a  pretty  game  with  you.  How  to 
checkmate  the  king  with  a  knight  and  a  princess  in  any  num- 
ber of  moves  you  iike — that  is  the  problem;  and  my  princess 
has  a  strong  power  over  the  king  where  she  is  just  now." 

"It's  an  uncommonly  awkward  business,  you  know,  In- 
gram," said  Lavender,  ruefully. 

"  Well,  it  is.  Old  Mackenzie  is  a  tough  old  fellow  to  deal 
with,  and  you'll  do  no  good  by  making  a  fight  of  it.  Wait  ! 
Difficulties  don't  look  so  formidable  when  you  take  them  one 
by  one  as  they  turn  up.  If  you  really  love  the  girl,  and 
mean  to  take  your  chance  of  getting  her,  and  if  she  cares 
enough  for  you  to  sacrifice  a  good  deal  for  your  sake,  there 
is  nothing  to  fear." 

'*  I  can  answer  for  myself,  anyway,"  said  Lavender,  in  a 
tone  of  voice  that  Ingram  rather  liked;  the  young  man  did 
not  always  speak  with  the  same  quietness,  thoughtfulness, 
and  modesty. 

And  how  naturally  and  easily  it  came  about,  after  all! 
They  were  back  again  at  Borva.  They  had  driven  around 
and  about  Lewis,  and  had  finished  up  with  Stornoway; 
and,  now  that  they  had  got  back  to  the  island  in  Loch  Roag, 


Il6  A    PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

Lha  quaint  little  drawing-room  had,  even  to  Lavender,  a 
homely  and  friendly  look.  The  big  stuffed  fishes  and  the 
sponge  shells  were  old  acquaintances;  and  he  went  to  hunt 
up  Sheila's  music  just  as  if  he  had  known  that  dusky  corner 
for  years. 

**Yes,  yes,"  called  Mackenzie,  "it  iss  the  English  songs 
we  will  try  now." 

He  had  a  notion  that  he  was  himself  rather  a  good  hand 
at  a  part  song— just  as  Sheila  had  innocently  taught  him  to 
believe  that  he  was  a  brilliant  whist  player  when  he  had  mas- 
tered the  art  of  returning  his  partner's  lead — but  fortunately 
at  iliis  moment  he  was  engaged  with  a  long  pipe  and  a  big 
tu"  bier  of  hot  v/hisky  and  water.  Ingram  was  similarly  em- 
ployed, lying  back  in  a  cane-bottomed  easy-chair,  and  pla- 
cidly watching  the  smoke  ascending  to  the  roof.  Sometimes 
ho  cast  an  eye  to  the  young  folks  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room.  They  formed  a  pretty  sight,  he  thought.  Lavender 
was  a  good-looking  fellow  enough,  and  there  was  something 
pleasing  in  the  quiet  and  assiduous  fashion  in  which  he  waited 
upon  Sheila,  and  in  the  almost  timid  way  in  which  he  spoke 
to  her.  Sheila  herself  sat  at  the  piano,  clad  all  in  slate-gray 
silk,  with  a  narrow  band  of  scarlet  velvet  around  her  neck; 
and  it  was  only  by  a  chance  turning  of  the  head  that  Ingram 
caught  the  tender  and  handsome  profile,  broken  only  by  the 
onward  sweep  of  the  long  eyelashes. 

"  Love  in  thine  eyes  for  ever  plays," 

Sheila  sang,  with  her  father  keeping  time  by  patting  his  fore- 
finger on  the  table. 

"  He  in  thy  snowy  bosom  strays," 

sang  Lavender;  and  then  the  two  voices  joined  together  : 

"  He  makes  thy  rosy  lips  his  care, 
And  walks  the  mazes  of  thy  hair." 

Or  were  there  not  three  voices  ?  Surely,  from  the  back 
part  of  the  room  the  musicians  could  hear  a  wandering  bass 
come  in  from  time  to  time,  especially  at  such  portions  as 
"  Ah,  he  never — ah,  he  never  touched  thy  heart  !"  which  old 
Macke.  zie  considered  very  touching.  But  there  was  some- 
thing quaint  and  friendly  and  pleasant  in  the  pathos  of  those 
English  songs,  which  made  them  far  more  acceptable  to  him 
than  Sheila's  wild  and  melancholy  legends  of  the  sea.  He  sang 
"Ah,  he  never,  never  touched  thy  heart  !"  with  an  outward 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  II7 

expression  of  grief,  but  with  much  inward  satisfaction.  Was 
it  the  quaint  phraseology  of  the  old  duets  that  awoke  in  him 
some  faint  ambition  after  histrionic  effect  ?  At  all  events, 
Sheila  proceeded  to  another  of  his  favorites,  "  All's  Well," 
and  here,  amid  the  brisk  music,  the  old  man  had  an  excel- 
lent opportunity  of  striking  in  at  random  • 

The  careful  watch  patrols  the  deck 
To  guard  the  ship  from  foes  or  wreck. 

These  two  lines  he  had  absolutely  mastered,  and  always 
5-ang  them,  whatever  might  be  the  key  he  happened  to  light 
on,  with  great  vigor.  He  soon  went  to  the  length  of  improvis- 
ing a  part  for  himself  in  the  closing  passages,  and  laid  down 
his  pipe  altogether  as  he  sang — 

What  cheer  ?     Brother,  quickly  tell ! 

Above  !     Below  !    Good-night !    All,  all's  well 

From  that  point,  however,  Sheila  and  her  companion  wan- 
dered away  into  fields  of  melody  whither  the  King  of  Borva 
could  not  follow  them;  so  he  was  content  to  resume  his  pipe 
and  listen  placidly  to  the  pretty  airs.  He  caught  but  bits  and 
fragments  of  phrases  and  sentiments,  but  they  evidently  were 
comfortable,  merry,  good-natured  songs  for  the  young  folks 
to  sing.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  love-making,  and  rosy 
morns  appearing,  and  merry  zephyrs,  and  such  odd  things, 
which,  sung  briskly  and  gladly  by  two  young  and  fresh  voices, 
rather  drew  the  hearts  of  contemplative  listeners  to  the 
musicians. 

"They  sing  very  well,  whatever,"  said  Mackenzie  with  a 
critical  air  to  Ingram,  when  the  young  people  were  so  busily 
engaged  with  their  own  affairs  as  apparently  to  forget  the 
presence  of  the  others.  "  Oh  yes,  they  sing  very  well  what- 
ever; and  what  should  the  young  folks  sing  about  but  making 
love  and  courting,  and  all  that  ?" 

"Natural  enough,"  said  Ingram,  looking  rather  wistfully 
at  the  two  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  "  I  suppose  Sheila 
will  have  a  sweetheart  some  day?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Sheila  will  hef  a  sweetheart  some  day,"  said 
her  father,  good-humored ly.  "  Sheila  is  a  good-looking  girl ; 
she  will  hef  a  sweetheart  some  day." 

"  She  will  be  marrying,  too,  I  suppose,"  said  Ingram  cau- 
tiously. 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  will  marry — Sheila  will  marry  ;  wliat  will  be 
the  life  of  a  young  girl  if  she  does  not  marry?" 


1^8  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

At  this  moment,  as  Ingram  afterward  described  it,  a  sort 
of  "  flash  of  inspiration  "  darted  in  upon  him,  and  he  re- 
solved there  ^nd  then  to  brave  the  wrath  of  the  old  king,  and 
place  all  the  conspiracy  before  him,  if  only  the  music 
kept  loud  enough  to  prevent  his  being  overheard. 

"  It  vi^ill  be  hard  on  you  to  part  with  Sheila  when  she 
marries,"  said  Ingram,  scarcely  daring  to  look  up. 

"Oh,  ay,  it  will  be  that,"  said  Mackenzie,  cheerfully 
enough.  "  But  it  iss  every  one  will  hef  to  do  that,  and  no 
great  harm  comes  of  it.  Oh,  no,  it  will  not  be  much  what- 
ever ;  and  Sheila,  she  will  be  very  glad  in  a  little  while  after, 
and  it  will  be  enough  for  me  to  see  that  she  is  ferry  contented 
and  happy.  The  young  folk  must  marry,  you  will  see  ;  and 
what  is  the  use  of  marryiug  if  it  is  not  when  they  are  young? 
But  Sheila,  she  will  think  of  none  of  these  things.  It  was 
young  Mr.  Maclntyre  of  Sutherland— you  hef  seen  him  last 
year  in  Stornoway  ;  he  has  three  tliousand  acres  of  a  deer 
forest  in  Sutherland — and  he  will  be  ferry  glad  to  marry  my 
Sheila.  But  I  will  say  to  him,  '  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  yes  or 
no  to  you,  Mr.  Maclntyre  :  it  is  Sheila  herself  will  tell  you 
that.'  But  he  was  afraid  to  speak  to  her  ;  and  Sheila  herself 
will  know  nothing  of  why  he  came  twice  to  Borva  the  last 
year." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  leave  Sheila  quite  unbiased  in 
her  choice,"  said  Ingram:  "  many  fathers  would  have  been 
sorely  tempted  by  that  deer  forest  " 

Old  Mackenzie  laughed  a  loud  laugh  of  derision  that  fortu- 
nately did  not  stop  Lavender's  execution  of  "  I  would  that 
my  love  would  silently." 

"What  theteiifle,"  said  Mackenzie,  "hef  I  to  want  a  deer 
forest  for  my  Sheila?  Sheila  is  no  fisherman's  lass.  She 
has  plenty  for  herself,  and  she  will  marry  just  the  young 
man  she  wants  to  marry,  and  no  other  one;  that  is  whar  she 
will  do,  by  Kott!" 

All  this  was  most  hopeful.  If  Mackenzie  had  himself  been 
advocating  Lavender's  suit,  could  he  have  said  more?  But, 
notwithstanding  all  these  frank  and  generous  promises,  deal- 
ing with  a  future  which  the  old  man  considered  as  indefi- 
nitely remote,  Ingram  was  still  afraid  of  the  announcement 
he  was  about  to  make. 

"Sheila  is  fortunately  situated,"  he  said,  "in  having  a 
father  who  thinks  only  of  her  happiness.  But  I  suppose  she 
has  never  yet  shown  a  preference  for  any  one?" 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  II9 

"  Not  for  any  one  buc  yourself,"  said  her  father,  with  a 
laugh. 

And  Ingram  laughed,  too,  but  in  an  embarrassed  way,  and 
his  sallow  face  grew  darker  with  a  blush.  Was  there  not 
something  painful  in  the  unintentional  implication  that  of 
course  Ingram  could  not  be  considered  a  possible  lover  of 
Sheila's,  and  that  the  girl  herself  was  so  well  aware  of  it  that 
she  could  openly  testify  to  her  regard  for  him  ? 

"And  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  Sheila," continued  her 
father,  more  gravely,  "  if  there  was  any  young  man  about  the 
Lewis  that  she  would  tek  a  liking  to;  for  it  will  be  some  day 
1  can  no  more  look  after  her,  and  it  would  be  bad  for  her  to 
be  left  alone  all  by  herself  in  the  island." 

**  And  you  don't  think  you  see  before  you  now  some  one 
who  might  take  on  him  the  charge  of  Sheila's  future?"  said 
Ingram,  looking  toward  Lavender. 

•*  The  English  gentleman?"  said  Mackenzie,  with  a  smile. 
"  No,  that  anyway  is  not  possible." 

"1  fancy  it  is  more  than  possible,"  said  Ingram,  resolved 
to  go  straight  at  it.  "  I  know  for  a  fact  that  he  would  like  to 
marry  your  daughter,  and  I  think  that  Sheila,  without  know- 
ing it  herself  almost,  is  well  inclined  toward  him." 

The  old  man  started  up  from  his  chair:  "  Eh  ?  what!  my 
Sheila?" 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  the  girl,  turning  around  at  once. 

She  caught  sight  of  a  strange  look  on  his  face,  and  in  an 
instant  was  by  his  side;  ''Papa,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you?" 

*' Nothing,  Sheila,  nothing,"  he  said,  impatiently.  ''I  am 
a  little  tired  of  the  music,  that  is  all.  But  go  on  with  the 
music.  Go  back  to  the  piano.  Sheila,  and  go  on  with  the 
music,  and  Mr.  Ingram  and  me,  we  will  go  outside  for  a  little 
while." 

Mackenzie  walked  out  of  the  room,  and  said  aloud  in  the 
hall,  "  Ay,  are  you  coming,  Mr.  Ingram?  It  iss  a  fine  night, 
this  night,  and  the  wind  is  in  a  very  good  way  for  the 
weather." 

And  then,  as  he  went  out  to  the  front,  he  hummed  aloud, 
so  that  Sheila  should  hear: 

Who  goes  there  ?     Stranger,  quickly  tell  ! 

A  friend  !     The  word  ?     Good-night!     All's  well  I 

All's  well!    Good-night!     All's  well! 

Ingram  followed   the  old  man  outside,  wi'.h  a  somewhat 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 


guilty  conscience  suggesting  odd  things  to  him.  Would  it 
not  be  possible  now  to  shut  one's  ears  for  the  next  half  hour? 
Angry  words  were  only  little  perturbations  in  the  air.  If  you 
shut  your  ears  till  they  were  all  over,  what  harm  could  be 
done?  All  the  big  facts  of  life  would  remain  the  same. 
The  sea,  the  sky,  the  hills,  the  human  beings  around  you, 
even  your  desire  of  sleep  for  the  night,  and  your  wholesome 
longing  for  breakfast  in  the  morning,  would  all  remain,  and 
the  angry  words  would  have  passed  away.  But  perhaps  it 
was  a  proper  punishment  that  he  should  now  go  out  and 
bear  all  the  wrath  of  this  fierce  old  gentleman,  whose  daugh- 
ter he  had  conspired  to  carry  off.  Mackenzie  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  path  outside,  in  the  cool  and  silent  night. 
There  was  not  much  moon  now,  but  a  clear  and  lambent 
twilight  showed  all  the  familiar  features  of  Loch  Roag  and 
the  Southern  hills,  and  down  there  in  the  bay  you  could 
vaguely  make  out  the  Maighdean-mharra  rocking  in  the  tiny 
waves  that  washed  in  on  the  white  shore.  Ingram  had  never 
looked  on  this  pretty  picture  with  a  less  feeling  of  delight  ! 
"  Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  he  was  beginning,  "you 
must  make  this  excuse  for  him — " 

But  Mackenzie  put  aside  Lavender  at  once.  It  was  all 
about  Sheila  that  he  wanted  to  know.  There  was  no  anger 
in  his  words;  only  a  great  anxiety  and  sometimes  an  extra- 
ordinary and  pathetic  effort  to  take  a  philosophical  view  of 
the  situation.  What  had  Sheila  said  ?  Was  Sheila  deeply 
interested  in  the  young  man  ?  Would  it  please  Sheila  if  he 
was  to  go  in-doors  and  give  at  once  his  free  consent  to  her 
marrying  this  Mr.  Lavender  ? 

*'  Oh,  you  must  not  think,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  a  certain 
loftiness  of  air,  even  amidst  his  great  perturbation  and  anxiety 
— "  you  must  not  think  I  hef  not  foreseen  all  this.  It  wass 
some  day  or  other  Sheila  will  be  sure  to  marry;  and  although 
I  did  not  expect — no,  I  did  not  expect  //m/— that  she  would 
marry  a  stranger  and  an  Englishmin,  if  it  will  please  her,  that 
is  enough.  You  cannot  tell  a  young  lass  the  one  she  should 
marry;  it  iss  all  a  chance  the  one  she  likes,  and  if  she  does 
not  marry  him  it  is  better  she  will  not  marry  at  all.  Oh,  yes, 
1  know  that  ferry  wc;l.  And  1  hef  known  there  wass  a  time 
coming  when  I  would  give  away  my  Sheila  to  some  young 
man;  and  there  iss  no  use  complaining  of  it.  But  you  hef 
not  told  me  much  about  this  young  man,  or  I  hef  forgotten; 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  12  1 

it  is  the  same  thing  whatever.  He  has  not  much  money,  you 
said — he  is  waiting  for  some  money.  Well,  this  is  what  I 
will  do,  I  will  give  him  all  my  money  if  he  will  come  and  live 
in  the  Lewis." 

All  the  philosophy  he  had  been  mustering  up  fell  away 
from  that  last  sentence.  It  was  like  the  cry  of  a  drownnig 
man  who  sees  the  last  lifeboat  set  out  for  shore,  leaving  him 
to  his  fate.  And  Ingram  had  not  a  word  to  say  in  reply  to 
that  piteous  entreaiy. 

"  I  do  not  ask  him  to  stop  in  Borva;  no,  it  iss  a  small  place 
for  one  that  hass  lived  in  a  town.  But  the  Lewis,  that  is 
quite  different ;  and  there  iss  very  good  houses  in  Storno- 
way." 

"  But,  surely,  sir,"  said  Ingram,  "  you  need  not  consider  all 
this  just  yet.  I  am  sure  neither  of  them  has  thought  atiy 
such  thing. 

"  No,"  said  Mackenzie,  recovering  himself,  "perhaps  not. 
But  we  hef  our  duties  to  look  at  the  future  of  young  folks. 
And  you  will  say  that  Mr.  Lavender  hass  only  expectafions 
of  money?  " 

*'  Well,  the  expectation  is  almost  a  certainty.  His  aunt,  I 
have  told  you,  is  a  very  rich  eld  lady,  who  has  no  other  near 
relations,  and  she  is  extremely  fond  of  him,  and  would  do 
anything  for  him.  I  am  sure  the  allowance  he  has  now  is 
greatly  in  excels  of  what  she  spends  on  herself." 

*'  But  they  might  quarrel,  you  know — they  might  quarrel. 
You  hef  always  to  look  to  the  future ;  they  might  quarrel  and 
what  will  he  do  then  ?" 

"Why,  you  don't  suppose  he  couldn't  support  himself  if 
the  worst  were  to  come  to  the  worst  ?  He  is  an  amazingly 
clever  fellow — " 

"  Ah,  that  is  very  good,"  said  Mackenzie  in  a  cautious 
sort  of  way,  "but  has  he  ever  made  any  money?" 

"  Oh,  I  fancy  not — nothing  to  speak  of.  He  has  sold  some 
pictures,  but  I  think  he  has  given  more  away." 

"  Then  it  iss  not  easy,  tek  my  word  for  it,  Mr.  Ingram,  to 
begin  a  new  trade  when  you  are  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and 
the  people  who  will  tek  your  pictures  for  nothing,  will  they 
pay  for  them  if  you  wanted  the  money  ?" 

It  was  obviously  the  old  man's  eager  wish  to  prove  to  him- 
self that,  somehow  or  other,  Lavender  might  come  to  have 
no  money,  and  be  made  dependent  on  his  father-in-law.    So 


122  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

far,  indeed,  from  sharing  the  sentiments  ordinarily  attributed 
to  that  important  relative,  he  would  have  welcomed  with  a 
heartfelt  joy  the  information  that  the  man  who,  as  he  ex- 
pected, was  about  to  marry  his  daughter,  m^s  absolutely  pen- 
niless. Not  even  all  the  attractions  of  that  deer  forest  in 
Suthei-landshire— particularly  fascinating  as  they  must  have 
been  to  a  man  of  his  education  and  surroundings — had  been 
able  to  lead  the  old  King  of  Borva  even  into  hinting  to  his 
daughter  that  the  owner  of  that  property  would  like  to  marry 
her.  Sheila  was  to  chocse  for  herself.  She  was  not  like  a 
fisherman's  lass,  bound  to  consider  ways  and  means.  And 
now  that  she  had  chosen,  or  at  least  indicated  the  possibility 
of  her  doing  so,  her  father's  chief  desire  was  that  his  future 
son-in-law  should  come  and  take  and  enjoy  his  money,  so 
only  that  Sheila  might  not  be  carried  away  from  him  for- 
ever. . 

'  Well,  I  will  see  about  it,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  an  attec- 
tation  of  cheerful  and  practical  shrewdness.  "Oh,  yes,  I 
will  see  about  it  when  Sheila  has  made  up  her  mind.  He  is 
a  very  good  young  man,  whatever — " 

"  He  is  the  best-hearted  fellow  I  know,"  said  Ingram, 
warmly.  "  I  don't  think  Sheila  has  much  to  fear  if  she  mar- 
ries him.  If  you  had  known  him  as  long  as  I  have,  you 
would  know  how  considerate  he  is  to  everybody  about  him, 
how  generous  he  is,  how  good-natured  and  cheerful,  and  so 
forth  ;  in  short,  he  is  a  thorough  good  fellow,  and  that's 
what  I  have  to  say  about  him." 

"  It  iss  well  for  him  he  will  hef  such  a  champion,"  said 
Mackenzie,  with  a  smile  ;  "  there  is  not  many  Sheila  will  pay 
attention  to  as  she  does  to  you." 

They  went  indoors  again,  Ingram  scarcely  knowing  how 
he  had  got  so  easily  through  the  ordeal,  but  very  glad  it  was 


over. 


Sheila  was  still  at  the  piano,  and  on  their  entering  she 
said,  '  Papa,  here  is  a  song  you  must  learn  to  sing  with  me." 

"  And  what  iss  it.  Sheila?"  he  said,  going  over  to  her. 

"  '  Time  has  not  thinned  my  flawing  hair.' " 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  head  and  said,  "  I  hope  it  will  be 
a  long  time  before  he  will  thin  your  hair.  Sheila." 

The  girl  looked  up  surprised.  Scotch  folks  are,  as  a  rule, 
somewhat  reticent  in  their  display  of  affection,  and  it  was 
not  often  that  her  father  talked  to  her  in  that  way.     What  was 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  I23 

there  in  his  face  that  made  her  glance  instinctively  toward 
Ingram.  Somehow  or  other  her  hand  sought  her  father's 
hand,  and  she  rose  and  went  away  from  the  piano,  with  her 
head  bent  down  and  tears  beginning  to  tell  in  her  eyes. 

"  Y<  s,  that  is  a  capital  song,"  said  Ingram,  loudly.  "  Sing 
'  The  Arethusa,'  Lavender — '  Said  the  saucy  Arethusa.' " 

Lavender,  knowing  what  had  taken  place,  and  not  daring 
to  follow  with  his  eyes  Sheila  and  her  father,  who  had  gone 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  sang  the  song.  Never  was  a 
gallant  and  devil-may-care  sea-song  sung  so  hopelessly  with- 
out spirit.  But  the  piano  made  a  noise,  and  the  verses  took 
U]}  time.  When  he  had  finished  he  almost  feared  to  turn 
around,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  dreadful  in  the  picture 
that  presented  itself.  Sheila  was  sitting  on  her  father's  knee, 
with  her  head  buried  in  his  bosom,  while  he  was  patting  her 
head  and  talking  in  a  low  voice  to  her.  The  King  of  Borva 
did  not  look  particularly  fierce. 

*'  Yes,  it  iss  a  teffle  of  a  good  song,"  he  said,  suddenly. 
"  Now  get  up,  Sheila,  and  go  and  tell  Mairi  we  will  have  a 
bit  of  bread  and  cheese  before  going  to  bed.  And  there 
will  be  a  little  hot  water  wanttd  in  the  other  room,  for  this 
room  it  iss  too  full  of  the  smoke." 

Sheila,  as  she  went  cut  of  the  room,  had  her  head  cast 
down,  and,  perhaps,  an  extra  tinge  of  color  in  her  young 
and  pretty  face.  But  surely.  Lavender  thought  to  himself  as 
he  watched  her  anxiously,  she  did  not  look  grieved.  As  for 
hir  father,  what  should  he  do  now?  Turn  suddenly  around 
a  id  beg  Mackenzie's  pardon,  and  throAv  himself  on  his  gen- 
erosity? When  he  d,d,  with  much  inward  trembling,  ven- 
ture to  approach  the  old  man,  he  found  no  such  explanation 
possible.  The  King  of  Borva  was  in  one  of  his  grandest 
moods — dignified,  courteous,  cautious,  and  yet  inclined  to 
treat  everybody  and  everything  with  a  sort  of  lofty  good 
humor.  He  spoke  to  Lavender  in  the  most  friendly  way, 
but  it  v/as  about  the  singular  and  startling  fact  that  modern 
research  had  proved  many  of  the  Roman  legends  to  be  ut- 
terly untrustworthy,  Mr.  Mackenzie  observed  that  the  man 
was  wanting  in  proper  courage  who  feared  to  accepc  the  re- 
sults of  such  inquiries.  It  was  better  that  we  sliould  know 
the  truth,  and  then  the  kings  who  had  really  made  Rome 
great  might  emerge  from  the  fog  of  tradition  in  their  proper 
shape.     There  was  something  quite  sympathetic  in  the  v.ay 


ij^  A     PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

he  talked  of  those  ill-treated   sovereigns,  whom   the   vulgar 
mind  had  clothed  in  mist. 

Lavender  was  sorely  beset  by  the  rival  claims  of  Rome 
and  Borva  upon  his  attention.  He  was  inwardly  inclined  to 
curse  Numa  Pompilius — which  would  have  been  ineffectual 
— when  he  found  that  personage  interfering  with  a  wild  effort 
to  discover  why  Mackenzie  should  treat  him  in  this  way. 
And  then  it  occurred  to  him  that,  as  he  had  never  said  a 
word  to  Mackenzie  about  this  affair,  it  was  too  much  to  ex- 
pect that  Sheila's  father  should  himself  open  the  subject.  On 
the  contrary,  Mackenzie  was  bent  on  extending  a  grave 
courtesy  to  his  guest,  so  that  the  latter  should  not  feel  ill  at 
ease  until  it  suited  himself  to  make  any  explanations  he  might 
choose.  It  was  not  Mackenzie's  business  to  ask  this  young 
man  if  he  wanted  to  marry  Sheila.  No.  The  king's 
daughter,  if  she  were  to  be  won  at  all,  was  to  be  won  by  a 
suitor;  and  it  was  not  for  her  father  to  be  in  a  hurry  about 
it.  So  Lavender  got  back  into  the  region  of  early  Rom.an 
history,  and  tried  to  recall  what  he  had  learned  in  Livy,  and 
quite  coincided  with  everything  that  Niebuhr  had  i>aid  or 
proved,  and  with  everything  that  Mackenzie  thought 
Niebuhr  had  said  or  proved.  He  was  only  too  glad, 
indeed,  to  find  himself  talking  to  Sheila's  father  in  this  friend- 
ly fashion. 

Then  Sheila  came  in  and  told  them  that  supper  was  laid 
in  the  adjoining  room.  At  that  modest  meal  a  great  good 
humor  prevailed.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  it  occurred  to  Ingram 
that  Sheila  occasionally  cast  an  anxious  glance  to  her  father, 
as  if  she  were  trying  to  discover  whether  he  was  really  satis- 
fied, or  whether -he  were  not  merely  pretending  satisfaction 
to  please  her  ;  but  for  the  rest  the  party  was  a  most  friendly 
and  merry  one.  Lavender,  naturally  enough,  was  in  the 
highest  of  spirits,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  light-hearted 
endeavors  he  made  to  amuse,  and  interest,  and  cheer  hia 
companions.  Sheila,  indeed,  sat  up  later  than  usual,  even 
although  pipes  were  lit  again,  and  the  slate-gray  silk  likeiy  to 
bear  witness  to  the  fact  in  the  morning.  How  comfortable 
and  homely  was  this  sort  of  Hfe  in  the  remote  stone  building 
overlooking  the  sea  !  He  began  to  think  that  he  could  live 
always  in  Borva  if  only  Sheila  were  with  him  as  his  com- 
panion. 

Was  it  an  actual  fact,  then,  he  asked  himself  next  morn- 


A   PRINCESS   OK   THULE.  I25 

ing,  that  he  stood  confessed  to  the  small  world  of  Borva  as 
Sheila's  accepted  lover  ?  Not  a  word  on  the  subject  had 
passed  between  Mackenzie  and  himself,  and  yet  he  found 
himself  assuming  the  position  of  a  younger  relative,  and 
rather  expecting  advice  from  the  old  man.  He  began  to  take 
a  great  interest  too,  in  the  local  administration  of  the  island. 
He  examined  the  window  fastenings  of  Mackenzie's  house, 
and  saw  that  they  would  be  useful  in  the  winter,  and  ex- 
pressed to  Sheila's  father  his  confidential  opinion  that  the 
girl  should  not  be  allowed  to  go  out  in  the  Maighdean- 
mhara  without  Duncan. 

"  She  will  know  as  much  about  boats  as  Duncan  himself," 
said  her  father,  with  a  smile.  "But  Sheila  will  not  go  out 
when  the  rough  weather  begins." 

"  Of  course,  you  keep  her  indoors  then,"  said  the  younger 
man,  already  assuming  some  little  charge  over  Sheila's 
comfort. 

The  father  laughed  aloud  at  this  simplicity  on  the  part  of 
the  Englishman: 

"  If  we  wass  to  keep  indoors  in  the  bad  weather,  it  would 
be  all  the  winter  we  would  be  indoors  !  There  iss  no  day 
at  all  Sheila  will  not  be  out  some  time  or  other;  and  she  is 
never  so  well  as  in  the  hard  weather,  when  she  will  be  out 
always  in  the  snow  and  the  frost,  and  hef  plenty  of  exercise 
and  amusement." 

"She  is  not  often  ailing,  I  suppose?"  said  Lavender. 

"  She  is  as  strong  as  a  young  pony,  that's  what  Sheila  is," 
said  her  father,  proudly.  "And  there's  no  one  in  the  island 
will  run  so  fast,  or  walk  so  long  without  tiring,  or  carry  things 
from  the  shore  as  she  will — not  one." 

But  here  he  suddenly  checked  himself.  "That  is,"  he 
said,  with  some  little  expression  of  annoyance,  "  I  wass  say- 
ing Sheila  could  do  that  if  it  wass  any  use;  but  she  will  not 
do  such  things,  like  a  fisherman's  lass  that  hass  to  keep  in  the 
work." 

"Oh,  of  course  not,"  said  Lavender,  hastily.  "But  still, 
you  know,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  she  is  so  s  rung  and  well." 

And  at  this  moment  Sheila  herself  appeared,  accompanied 
by  her  great  deerhound,  and  testifying  by  the  bright  color 
in  her  face  to  the  assurances  of  her  health  her  father  had 
been  giving.  She  had  just  come  up  and  over  the  hill  at 
Borvapost,   while   as   yet   breakfast   had    not   been  served. 


126  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

Somehow  or  other,  Lavender  fancied  she  never  looked  so 
bright  and  bold  and  handsome  as  in  the  early  morning,  with 
the  fresh  sea-air  tingling  the  color  of  her  cheeks,  and  the  sun- 
light shining  in  the  clear  eyes  or  giving  from  time  to  time  a 
grimpse  of  her  perfect  teeth.  But  this  morning  she  did  not  seem 
quite  so  frankly  merry  as  usual.  She  patted  her  deerhound's 
head,  and  rather  kept  her  eyes  away  from  her  father  and 
his  companions.  And  then  she  took  Brass  away  to  give  him 
his  breakfast,  just  as  Ingram  appeared  to  bid  her  good-morn- 
ing and  ask  her  what  she  meant  by  being  about  so  early. 

How  anxiously  Lavender  now  began  to  calculate  on  the 
remaining  days  of  their  stay  in  Borva  !  They  seemed  so 
few.  He  got  up  at  preposterously  early  hours  to  make  each 
day  as  long  as  possible,  but  it  slipped  away  with  a  fatal  speed ; 
and  already  he  b-gan  to  think  of  Stornoway  and  the  Clans- 
man and  his  bidding  good-bye  to  Sheila.  He  had  said  no 
more  to  her  of  any  pledge  as  regarded  the  future.  He  was 
content  to  see  that  she  was  pleased  to  be  with  him  ;  and 
happy  indeed  were  their  rambles  about  the  island,  tbeir 
excursions  in  Sheila's  boat,  their  visits  to  the  White  Waler  in 
search  of  salmon.  Nor  had  he  yet  spoken  to  Sheila's  father. 
He  knew  that  Mackenzie  knew,  and  both  seemed  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  no  good  could  come  of  a  formal  explanation 
until  Sheila  herself  should  make  her  wishes  known.  That, 
indeed,  was  the  only  aspect  of  the  case  that  apparently  pre- 
sented iuelf  tothe  old  King  of  Borva.  He  forgot  altogether 
those  precautions  and  investigations  which  are  supposed  to 
occupy  the  mind  of  a  future  father-in  lav/,  and  only  sought 
to  see  how  Sheila  was  affected  toward  the  young  man  who 
was  soon  about  to  leave  the  island.  When  he  saw  her  pleased 
to  be  walking  with  Lavender  and  talking  with  him  of  an 
evening,  he  was  pleased,  and  would  rather  have  a  cold  din- 
ner than  break  in  upon  them  to  hurry  them  home.  When 
he  saw  her  disappointed  because  Lavender  had  been  unfor- 
tunate in  his  salmon-fishing,  he  was  ready  to  swear  at  Duncan 
for  not  having  had  the  fish  in  better  temper.  And  the  most 
of  his  conversation  wilh  Ingram  consisted  of  an  endeavor 
to  convince  hmiself  that,  after  all,  what  had  happened  was 
for  the  best,  and  that  Sheila  seemed  to  be  happy. 

But  somehow  or  other,  when  the  time  for  their  departure 
was  drawing  near,  Mackenzie  showed  a  strange  desire  that 
his  guests  should  spend  the  last  two  da^s  in  Stornoway. 


A  PRINCESS  OF  THLLE.  I27 

V/hen  Lavender  first  heard  this  proposal  he  glanced  towards 
Sheila,  and  his  face  showed  clearly  his  disappointment. 

"Bet  Sheila  will  go  with  us,  too,"  said  her  father,  replying 
to  that  unuttered  protest  in  the  most  innocent  fashion ;  and 
then  Lavender's  face  brightened  again,  and  he  said  that 
nothing  would  give  him  greater  pleasure  than  to  spend  two 
days  in  Stornoway. 

"And  you  must  not  think,"  said  Mackenzie,  anxiously, 
'•that  one  day  or  two  days  or  a  great  many  days  will  show 
you  all  the  fine  things  about  S  ornoway.  And  if  you  were  to 
live  in  Stornoway  you  would  find  very  good  acquaintances 
and  friends  there;  and  in  the  autumn,  when  the  shooting  be- 
gins, there  are  many  English  who  will  come  up,  and  there 
will  be  ferry  great  doings  at  the  castle.  And  there  is  some 
gentlemen  now  at  Gumersta  whom  you  hef  not  seen,  and 
they  are  ferry  fine  gentlemen ;  and  at  Garra-na-hina  there  iss 
two  more  gentlemen  for  the  salmon-fishing.  Oh,  there  iss  a 
great  many  fine  people  in  the  Lewis,  and  it  is  not  all  as 
lonely  as  Borva." 

"  If  it  is  half  as  pleasant  a  plac^i  to  live  in  as  Borva,  it  will 
do,"  said  Lavender,  with  a  flush  of  enthusiasm  in  his  face,  as 
he  looked  toward  Sheila,  and  saw  her  pleased  and  downcast 
eyes. 

"  But  it  iss  not  to  be  compared,''  said  Mackenzie,  eagerly. 
"Borva,  that  is  nothing  at  all;  but  the  Lewis,  it  is  a  ferry 
different  thing  to  live  in  the  Lewis;  and  many  English  gen- 
tlemen hef  told  me  they  would  like  to  live  always  in  the 
Lewis." 

•'  I  think  I  should,  too,"  said  Lavender,  lightly  and  care- 
lessly, little  thinking  what  importance  the  old  man  immedi- 
ately and  gladly  put  upon  the  admissson. 

From  that  moment,  Lavender,  though  unconscious  of  what 
had  happened,  had  nothing  to  fear  in  the  way  of  opposition 
from  Sheila's  father.  If  he  had  there  and  then  boldy  asked 
Mackenzie  for  his  daughter,  the  old  man  would  have  given 
his  consent  freely,  and  bade  Lavender  to  go  to  Sheila  her- 
self. 

And  so  they  set  sail,  one  pleasant  afternoon,  from  Borva- 

post,  and  the  light  wind  that  ruffled  the  blue  of  Loch  Roag 

gently  filled   the  mainsail  of  the   Maighdean-mhara  as  she 

lightly  ran  down  the  tortuous  channel. 

"I  don't  like  to  go  away  from  Borva," said  Lavender,  in  a 


jjjg  A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

low  Toice,  to  Sheila,   "but  I  might  have  been  leaving  the 
isllnrwith  greater  regret,  for,  you  know,  I  expect  to  be  back 

'°°"we  shall  always  be  glad  to  fe  you,'' said  the  girl;  al- 
though he  would  rather  have  had  her  say   "1"  than  "we 
there  was  something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  that  contented 

^' At  Garra-na-hina,  Mackenzie  pointed  out  with  a  great  in- 
terest  to  Lavender  a  tall  man  who  was  gomg  down  through 
some  meadows  to  the  Amhuinn  Dhubh,  -the  Black  River.' 
H^hadalong  rod  over  his  shoulder,  and  behind  h.m,  at 
some  distance,  followed  a  shorter  man,  who  earned  a  gaff 
and  landing-net.  Mackenzie  anxiously  explained  to  La%  en- 
der  that  the  tall  figure  was  that  of  an  Englishman.  Laven- 
der accepted  the  Ltement.  But  would  he  not  go  down  to 
the  river  and  make  his  acquaintance  1  Lavender  could  not 
understand  why  he  should  be  expected  to  take  so  great  an 
interest  in  an  ordinary  English  sportsrnan  ^ 

"Ferrv  well."  said  Mackenzie,  a  tnfle  disappointed,  '  but 
you  would  find  several  of  the  English  in  the  Lewis  if  you 

was  living  here."  ^ 

These  two  days  in  Stornoway  were  very  pleasant.  On 
their  previous  visit  to  the  town,  Mackenzie  had  given  up 
much  of  his  time  to  business  affairs,  and  was  a  good  deal 
awav  from  his  guests,  but  now  he  devoted  himself  to  makmg 
them  parliculaTly  comfortable  in  the  place,  and  amusing 
them  in  every  possible  way.  He  introduced  Lavender,  in 
esoecial,  to  all  his  friends  there,  and  was  most  anxious  to 
impress  on  the  young  man  that  Hfe  in  Stornoway  was,  on  the 
whole,  rather  a  brilliant  affair.  Then  was  there  a  finer  point 
from  which  you  could  start  at  will  for  Inverness,  Oban,  and 
such  great  centres  of  civilization?  Very  soon  there  would 
even  be  a  telegraphic  cable  laid  to  the  rnainland.  VVas 
Mr.  Lavender  aware  that  frequently  you  could  see  the  buther- 
land  hills  from  this  very  town  of  Stornoway  ? 

There  Sheila  laughed,  and  Lavender,  who  kept  watching 
her  face  always,  to  read  all  her  fancies  and  sentiments  and 
wishes  in  the  shifting  lights  of  it,  immediately  demanded  an 

"""f' I^is  no'good  thing,"  said  Sheila,  "to  see  the  Sutherland 
bills  often,  for  when  you  see  them  it  means  to  rain. 

But  Lavender  had  not  been  taught  to  fear  the  rain  of  the 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  1 29 

Western  Isles.  The  weather  seemed  to  have  conspired  with 
Mackenzie  to  charm  the  young  man  with  the  island.  At  this 
moment,  for  example,  they  were  driving  away  from  Storno- 
way  along  the  side  of  the  great  bay  Northward,  until  it  finds 
its  furtherest  promontory  in  Tiumpan  Head.  What  magni- 
ficence of  color  shone  around  them  in  the  hot  sunlight  I 
Where  the  ruffled  blue  sea  came  near  the  long  sweep  of  yel- 
low sand,  it  grew  to  a  bright  transparent  green.  The 
splendid  curve  of  the  bay  showed  a  gleaming  line  of  white 
where  the  waves  broke  in  masses  of  hissing  foam  ;  and  be- 
yond that  curve  again  long  promontories  of  dark  red  con- 
glomerate ran  oul  into  the  darker  waters  of  the  sea,  with 
their  summits  shining  with  the  bright  sea-grass.  Here,  close 
at  hand,  were  warm  meadows,  with  calves  and  lambs  crop- 
ping the  sweet-scented  Dutch  clover.  A  few  huts,  shaped 
like  bee-hives,  stood  by  the  roadside,  close  by  some  deep 
peat  cuttings.  There  was  a  cutting  in  the  yellow  sand  of  the 
bay  for  the  pulling  up  of  the  captured  whales.  Now  and 
then  you  could  see  a  solan  dart  down  from  the  blue  heavens 
into  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea,  sending  up  a  spurt  of  water 
twenty  feet  high  as  he  disappeared  ;  and  fair  onward  between 
the  red  precipices  and  the  ruffled  waters  herds  of  white  sea- 
fowl  flew  from  crag  to  crag,  or  dropped  upon  the  sea  to  rise 
and  fall  with  the  waves. 

At  the  small  hamlet  of  Gress  they  got  a  large  rowing-boat 
manned  by  sturdy  fishermen,  and  set  out  to  explore  the  great 
caves  formed  in  the  mighty  wall  of  conglomerate  that  here 
fronts  the  sea.  The  wild-fowl  flew  about  them,  screaming 
and  yelling  at  being  disturbed.  The  long  swell  of  the  sea 
lifted  the  beat,  passed  from  under  it,  and  went  on  with 
majestic  force  to  crash  on  the  glowing  red  crags  and  send  jets 
of  foam  flying  up  the  face  of  them.  They  captured  one  of 
the  sea-birds — a  young  thing  about  as  big  as  a  hen,  with  star- 
ing eyes,  scant  Lathers,  and  a  long  beak  with  which  it  in- 
stinctively tried  to  bite  its  enemies — and  the  parents  of  it 
kept  swooping  down  over  the  boat,  uttering  shrill  cries,  until 
their  off"spring  was  restored  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  They 
went  into  the  great  loud-soundmg  caverns,  getting  a  new  im- 
pression of  the  extraordinary  clearness  of  the  sea-water  by 
the  depth  at  which  the  bottom  was  visible;  and  here  their 
shouts  occasionally  called  up  from  some  dim  twilight  recess, 
far  in  among  the  p:rilous  rocks,   the  head  of  a  young  seaL 


130  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

which  would  instantly  dive  again  and  be  seen  no  more.  They 
watched  the  salmon  splash  in  the  shallower  creeks  where  the 
sea  had  scooped  out  a  tiny  bay  of  ruddy  sand,  and  then  a 
slowly  rolling  porpoise  would  show  his  black  back  above  the 
water  and  silently  disappear  again.  All  this  was  pleasant 
enough  on  a  pleasant  morning,  in  fresh  sea-air  and  sunlight, 
in  holiday  time  ;  and  was  there  any  reason,  Mackenzie  may 
fairly  have  thought,  why  this  young  man,  if  he  did  marry 
Sheila,  should  not  come  and  live  in  a  place  where  so  much 
healthy  amusement  WaS  to  be  found? 

And  in  the  evening,  too,  when  they  had  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  hills  on  the  Souih  of  Stornoway  harbor,  did  not  the 
little  town  look  sufficiently  picturesque,  with  its  white  houses, 
its  shipping,  its  great  castle  and  plantations  lying  in  shadow 
under  the  green  of  the  Eastern  sky  ?  Then  away  to  the  West 
what  a  strange  picture  presenied  itself  !  Thick  bands  of 
gray  cloud  lay  across  the  sky,  and  the  sunlight  from  behind 
them  sent  down  great  rays  of  misty  yellow  on  the  endless 
miles  of  moor.  But  how  was  it  that,  as  these  shafts  of  sun- 
light struck  on  the  far  and  successive  ridges  of  the  moorland, 
each  long  undulation  seemed  to  become  transparent,  and  all 
the  island  appeared  to  consist  of  great  golden-brown 
shells  heaped  up  behind  each  other,  with  the  sunlight  shining 
through? 

**  I  have  tried  a  good  many  new  effects  since  coming  up 
here,"  said  Lavender,  "but  I  shall  not  try   that.'''' 

"  Oh,  it  iss  nothing — it  iss  nothing  at  all,"  said  Mackenzie 
with  a  stupid  air  of  unconcern.  "  There  iss  much  more 
beautiful  things  than  that  in  the  island,  but  you  will  hef  need 
of  a  ferry  long  time  before  you  will  find  it  all  out.  That — 
that  iss  nothing  at  all.'' 

"  You  will  perhaps  make  a  picture  of  it  some  other  time," 
said  Sheila,  with  her  eyes  cast  down,  and  as  he  was  standing 
by  her  at  the  time,  he  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  and  said, 
"  I  hope  so." 

Then,  that  night.  Did  not  every  hour  produce  some 
new  and  wjndertul  scene,  or  was  it  only  that  each  minute 
grew  to  be  so  precious,  and  that  the  enchantment  of  Sheila's 
presence  fil.ed  the  air  around  him?  There  was  no  moon,  but 
the  stars  shone  over  the  bay  and  the  harbor  and  the  dusky 
hills  beyond  the  castle.  Every  few  seconds  the  light-house 
at  Arnish  Point  sent  out  its  wild  glare  of  orange  fire  into  the 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


131 


heart  of  the  clear  darkness,  and  then  as  suddenly  faded  out 
and  left  the  eyes  too  bewildered  to  make  out  the  configura- 
tion of  the  rocks.  All  over  the  Northwest  there  still  re- 
mained the  pale  glow  of  the  twilight,  and  somehow  Lavender 
seemed  to  think  that  that  strange  glow  belonged  to  Sheila's 
home  in  the  West,  and  that  the  people  in  Stornoway  knew 
nothing  of  the  wonders  of  Loch  Roag  and  of  the  nights 
there.     Was  he  likely  ever  to  forget? 

^  "  Good-bye,  Sheila,"  he  said  next  morning,  when  the  last 
signal  had  been  given  and  the  Clansman  was  about  to  move 
from  her  moorings. 

She  had  bidden  good-bye  to  Ingram  already,  but  some- 
how she  could  not  speak  to  his  companion  just  at  this  last 
moment.  She  pressed  his  hand  and  turned  away,  and  went 
ashore  with  her  father.  TUen  the  big  steamer  throbbed  its 
way  out  of  the  harbor,  and  by  and  by  the  island  of  Lewis 
lay  but  as  a  thin  blue  cloud  along  the  horizon;  and  who  could 
tell  that  human  beings,  with  strange  hopes  and  fancies  and 
griefs,  were  hidden  away  in  that  pale  line  of  vapor  ? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

•  FAREWELL,  MACKRIM^fON  !' 

A  NIGHT  journey  from  Greenock  to  London  is  a  sufficiently 
prosaic  affair  in  ordinary  circumstances,  but  it  need  not  be  al- 
ways so.  What  if  a  young  man,  apparently  occupied  in  mak- 
ing himself  comfortable  and  in  talking  nf^sense  to  his  friend 
and  companion,  should  be  secretly  calculat  ng  how  the 
journey  could  be  made  most  pleasant  to  a  bride,  and  that 
bride  his  bride?  Lavender  made  experiments  with  regard 
to  the  ways  and  tempers  of  guards;  he  borrowed  planks  of 
wood  with  which  to  make  sleeping-couches  of  an  ordinary 
first-class  carriage  ;  he  bribed  a  certain  official  to  have  the 
compartment  secured  ;  he  took  note  of  the  time  when,  and 
the  place  where,  refreshments  could  be  procured;  all  these 
things  he  did,  thinking  of  Sheila.  And  when  Ingram,  some- 
times surprised  by  his  good-nature,  and  occasionally  remon- 
strating against  his  extravagance,  at  last  fell  asleep  on  the 
more  or  less  comfortable  cushions  stretched  across  the  planks, 
Lavender  would  have  him  wake  up  again,  that  he  might  be 


132  A     PRINCESS     OF   THULE. 

induced  to  talk  once  more  about  Sheila.  Ingram  would  make 
use  of  some  wicked  words,  rub  his  eyes,  ask  what  was  the  last 
station  they  had  passed,  and  then  begin  to  preach  to  Laven- 
der about  the  great  obligations  he  was  under  to  Sheila,  and 
what  would  be  expected  of  him  in  after  times. 

"You  are  coming  away  just  now,"  he  would  say,  while 
Lavender,  who  could  not  sleep  at  all,  was  only  anxious  that 
Sheila's  name  should  be  mentioned,  "  enriched  with  a  greater 
treasure  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  men.  If  you  know  how 
to  value  that  treasure,  there  is  not  a  king  or  emperor  in  Europe 
who  should  not  envy  you." 

*'  But  don't  you  think  I  value  it  ?"  the  other  would  say, 
anxiously. 

"  We'll  see  about  that  afterwards,  by  what  you  do.  But 
in  the  meantime  you  don't  know  what  you  have  won.  You 
don't  know  the  magnificent  single-heartedness  of  that  girl, 
her  keen  sense  of  honor,  nor  the  strength  of  character,  of 
judgment  and  decision  that  lies  beneath  her  apparent  sim- 
plicity. Why,  I  have  known  Sheila  now — But  what's  the 
use  of  talking?" 

*'  I  wish  you  would  talk,  though,  Ingram,"  said  his  com- 
panion, quite  submissively.  "You  have  known  her  longer 
than  I.  I  am  willing  to  believe  all  you  say  of  her,  and 
anxious,  indeed,  to  know  as  much  about  her  as  possible. 
You  don't  suppose  I  fancy  she  is  anything  less  than  you  say?" 
"Well,"  said  Ingram,  doubtfully,  "perhaps  not.  The 
worst  of  it  is,  that  you  take  such  odd  readings  of  people. 
However,  when  you  marry  her,  as  I  now  hope  you  may,  you 
will  soon  find  out;  atid  then,  if  you  are  not  grateful,  if  you 
don't  understand  and  appreciate  then  the  fine  qualities  of 
this  girl,  the  sooner  you  put  a  millstone  around  your  neck  and 
drop  over  Chelsea  Bridge  the  better." 

"  She  will  always  have  in  you  a  good  friend  to  look  after 
her  when  she  comes  to  London," 

"Oh,  don't  imagine  I  mean  to  thrust  myself  in  at  your 
breakfast  table  to  give  you  advice.  If  a  husband  and  wife 
cannot  manage  their  own  affairs  satisfactorily,  no  third  per- 
son can  ;  and  I  am  getting  to  be  an  elderly  man,  who  likes 
peace  and  comfort  and  his  own  quiet." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  such  nonsense,"  said  Lavender 
impetuously.  "You  know  you  are  bound  to  marry,  and  the 
woman  you  ask  to  marry  you  will  be  a  precious  fool  if  she  re- 


A  PRINCESS  OF    THULE.  I33 

fuses.     I  don't  know,  indeed,  how  you  and  Sheila  ever  es- 
caped— '' 

"  Look  here,  Lavender,"  said  his  companion,  speaking  in 
a  somewhat  more  earnest  fashion,  "  if  you  marry  Sheila 
Mackenzie  I  suppose  1  may  see  something  of  both  of  you 
from  time  to  time.  But  you  are  naturally  jealous  and  exact- 
ing, as  is  the  way  with  many  good  fellows  who  have  had  too 
much  of  their  own  will  in  the  world  ;  and  if  you  start  off 
with  the  notion  now  that  Sheila  and  I  might  ever  have  mar- 
ried, or  that  such  a  thing  was  ever  thought  of  by  either  of 
us,  the  certain  consequence  will  be  that  you  will  become 
jealous  of  me,  and  that  in  time  I  shall  have  to  stop  seeing 
either  of  you  if  you  happen  to  be  living  in  London." 

"And  if  ever  the  time  comes,"  said  Lavender,  lightly, 
"  when  I  prove  myself  such  a  fool,  I  hope  I  shall  remember 
that  a  millstone  can  be  bought  in  Victoria  road  and  that 
Chelsea  Bridge  is  handy." 

"  All  right ;  I'm  going  to  sleep." 

For  sometime  after  Ingram  was  permitted  to  rest  in  peace, 
and  it  was  not  until  they  had  reached  some  big  station  or 
other  toward  morning  that  he  woke.  Lavender  had  never 
closed  his  eyes. 

"  Haven't  you  been  asleep?" 

"No." 

"  What's  the  matter  now?" 

"My  aunt." 

"  You  seemed  to  have  acquired  a  trick  recently  of  looking 
at  all  the  difficulties  of  your  position  at  once.  Why  don't  you 
take  them  singly  ?  You've  just  got  rid  of  Mackenzie's  op- 
position; that  might  have  contented  you  for  a  while." 

"  I  think  the  best  plan  will  be  to  say  nothing  of  this  to  my 
aunt,  at  present.  I  think  we  ought  to  get  married  first,  and 
when  I  take  Sheila  to  see  her  as  my  wife,  what  can  she  say 
then?" 

"  But  what  is  Sheila  likely  to  say  before  then?  And  Sheila's 
father?    You  must  be  out  of  your  mind." 

"  There  will  be  a  pretty  scene,  then,  when  I  tell  her." 

"Scenes  don't  hurt  anybody,  unless  when  they  end  in 
brickbats  or  decanters.  Your  aunt  must  know  you  would 
marry  some  day." 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  whom  she  wished  me  to  marry." 

"  That's  nothing.     Every  old  lady  has  a  fancy  for  imagin- 


134  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

ing  possible  marriages  ;  but  your  aunt  is  a  reasonable  woman, 
ar-cl  could  not  possibly  object  to  your  marrying  a  girl  like 
She:la." 

"  On,  couldn't  she  ?  Then  you  don't  know  her;  '  Frank,  my 
dear,  what  are  the  arms  borne  by  your  wife's  family?'  '  My 
dear  aunt  I  will  describe  them  to  you  as  becomes  a  dutiful 
nephew.  The  arms  are  quarterly;  first  and  fourth,  vert,  a 
herring,  argent;  second  and  third,  azure,  a  solan-goose,  volant, 
or.  The  crest,  out  of  a  crown  vallery,  argent,  a  cask  of 
whisky,  g\iles.  Supporters,  dexter,  a  gillie;  sinister,  a  fisher- 
man.'" 

"  And  H  very  good  coat-of-arms,  too.  You  might  add  the 
motto  Lr:timus  regu/n.  Or  Atavis  editus  regibus.  Or 
Tyrrhetia  regum progenies.  To  think  that  your  aunt  would 
forbid  you  wedding  a  k.ing's  daughter!" 

"  I  shou  d  wed  the  king's  daughter,  aunt  or  no  aunt,  in 
any  case;  out,  you  see,  it  would  be  uncommonly  awkward, 
just  as  old  Mackenzie  would  want  to  know  something  more 
particular  about  my  circumstances;  and  he  might  ask  for  re- 
ferences to  the  old  lady  herself,  just  as  if  I  were  a  tenant 
about  to  take  a  house.'' 

"  I  have  given  him  enough  references.  Go  to  sleep,  and 
don't  bother  yourself.'' 

But  now  Ingram  found  himself  just  as  unable  as  his  com- 
panion to  escape  into  unconsciousness,  and  so  he  roused 
himself  thoroughly,  and  began  to  talk  about  Lewis  and  Borva 
and  the  Mackenzies,  and  the  duties  and  responsibilities 
Lavendei  would  undertake  in  marrying  Sheila. 

"Mackenzie,"  he  said,  "will  expect  you  to  live  in  Storno- 
way  at  least  half  the  year,  and  it  will  be  very  hard  on  him  if 
you  don't." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  the  other,  "I  should  have  no  ob- 
jection; but,  you  see,  if  I  am  to  get  married  I  really  think  I 
ought  to  try  to  get  into  some  position  of  earning  m.y  own  liv- 
ing or  helping  toward  it,  you  know;  I  begin  to  see  how  gall- 
ing this  sort  of  dependence  on  my  aunt  might  be  if  I  wished 
to  act  for  myself  Now,  if  I  were  to  begin  to  do  anything, 
I  could  not  go  and  bury  myself  in  Lewis  for  half  the  year — 
just  at  first  ;  by  and  by,  you  know,  it  might  be  different.  But 
don't  you  think  I  ought  to  begin  and  do  something?" 

"  Most  certainly.  I  have  often  wished  you  had  been  bom 
a  carpenter  or  painter  or  glazier." 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  1 35 

*•  People  are  not  born  carpenters  or  glaziers,  but  some- 
times they  are  born  painters.  I  think  I  have  b«en  born 
nothing ;  but  I  am  willing  to  try,  more  especially  as  I  think 
Sheila  would  like  it." 

**  I  know  she  would." 

*'  I  will  write  and  tell  her  the  moment  I  get  to  London." 

"  I  would  fix  first  what  your  occupation  was  to  be,  if  I  were 
you.  There  is  no  hurry  about  telling  Sheila,  although  she 
will  be  very  glad  to  get  as  much  news  of  you  as  possible,  and 
I  hope  you  will  spare  no  time  or  trouble  in  pleasing  her  in 
that  line.  By-the-way,  what  an  infamous  shame  it  was  of  you 
to  go  and  gammon  old  Mackenzie  into  the  belief  that  he  can 
read  poetry!  Why,  he  will  make  that  girl's  life  a  burden  to 
her.  I  heard  him  propose  to  read  Paradise  Lost  to  her  as 
soon  as  the  rain  set  in." 

"  I  didn't  gammon  him,"  said  Lavender,  with  a  laugh, 
"  Every  man  thinks  he  can  read  poetry  better  than  every 
other  man,  even  as  every  man  fancies  that  no  one  gets  cigars 
as  good  and  as  cheap  as  he  does,  and  that  no  one  can  drive 
a  horse  safely  but  himself.  My  talking  about  his  reading  was 
not  as  bad  as  Sheila's  persuading  him  that  he  can  play  whist. 
Did  you  ever  know  a  man  who  did  not  believe  that  everybody 
else's  reading  of  poetry  was  affected,  stilted  and  unbearable? 
I  know  Mackenzie  must  have  been  reading  poetry  to  Sheila 
long  before  I  mentioned  it  to  him." 

"  But  that  suggestion  about  his  resonant  voice  and  the 
Crystal  Palace  !'' 

"  That  was  a  joke." 

"  He  did  not  take  it  as  a  joke,  and  neither  did  Sheila." 

"Well,  Sheila  would  believe  that  her  father  could 
command  the  Channel  fleet,  or  turn  out  the  present 
ministry,  or  build  a  bridge  to  America,  if  only  anybody 
hinted  it  to  her.  Touching  that  Crystal  Palace;  did  you  ob- 
serve how  little  notion  of  size  she  could  have  got  from  pic- 
tures when  she  asked  me  if  the  Crystal  Palace  was  much  big- 
ger than  the  hot-houses  at  Lewis  Castle  ?" 

"What  a  world  of  wonder  the  girl  is  coming  into!"  said 
the  other,  meditatively.  "  But  it  will  be  all  lit  up  by  one  sun 
if  only  you  take  care  of  her  and  justify  her  belief  in  you." 

"  I  have  not  much  doubt."  said  Lavender,  with  a  certain 
modest  confidence  in  his  manner,  which  had  repeatedly  of 
late  pleased  his  friend. 


136  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

Even  Sheila  herself  could  scarcely  have  found  London 
more  strange  than  did  the  two  men  who  had  just  returned 
from  a  month's  sojourn  in  the  Northern  Hebrides.  The  dingy- 
trees  in  Euston  Square,  the  pale  sunlight  that  shone  down  on 
the  gray  pavements,  the  noise  of  the  omnibuses  and  carts, 
the  multitude  of  strangers,  the  blue  and  mist-like  smoke  that 
hung  about  Tottenham  Court  Road — all  were  as  strange  to 
them  as  the  sensation  of  sitting  in  a  hansom  and  being  driven 
along  by  an  unseen  driver.  Lavender  confessed  afterward 
that  he  was  pervaded  by  an  odd  sort  of  desire  to  know 
whether  there  was  anybody  in  London  at  all  like  Sheila.  Now 
and  again  a  smartly-dressed  girl  passed  along  the  pavement; 
what  was  it  that  made  the  difference  between  her  and  the 
other  girl  whom  he  had  just  left  ?  yet  he  wished  to  have  the 
difference  as  decided  as  possible,  when  some  bright,  fresh- 
colored,  pleasant-looking  girl  passed,  he  was  anxious  to  prove 
to  himself  that  she  was  not  to  be  compared  with  Sheila. 
Where  in  all  London  could  you  find  eyes  that  told  so  much  ? 
He  forgot  to  place  the  specialty  of  Sheila's  eyes  in  the  fact 
of  their  being  a  dark  gray-blue  under  black  eyelashes.  What 
he  did  remember  was  that  no  eyes  could  possibly  say  the 
same  things  to  him  as  they  had  said.  And  where  in  all  Lon- 
don was  the  same  sweet  aspect  to  be  found,  or  the  same  un- 
consciously proud  and  gentle  demeanor,  or  the  same  tender 
friendliness  expressed  in  a  beautiful  face  ?  He  would  not 
say  anything  against  London  women  for  all  that.  It  was  no 
fault  of  theirs  that  they  could  not  be  sea-kings'  daughters, 
with  the  courage  and  frankness  and  sweetness  of  the  sea  gone 
into  their  blood.  He  was  only  too  pleased  to  have  proved 
to  himself,  by  looking  at  some  half-dozen  pretty  shop-girls, 
that  not  in  London  was  there  any  one  to  compare  with  Prin- 
cess Sheila. 

For  many  a  day  thereafter  Ingram  had  to  suffer  a  good 
deal  of  this  sort  of  lover's  logic,  and  bore  it  with  great  forti- 
tude. Indeed,  nothing  pleased  him  more  than  to  observe 
that  Lavender's  affection,  so  far  from  waning,  engrossed 
more  and  more  of  his  thought  and  his  time;  and  he  listened 
with  unfailing  good-nature  and  patience  to  the  perpetual  talk 
of  his  friend  about  Sheila  and  her  home,  and  the  future  that 
might  be  in  store  for  both  of  them.  If  he  had  accepted 
half  the  invitations  to  dinner  sent  down  to  him  at  the  Board 
of  Trade  by  his  friend,  he  would  scarcely  ever  have   been 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  I37 

out  of  Lavender's  club.  Many  a  long  evening  they  passed  in 
this  way — either  in  Lavender's  rooms  in  King  street  or  in 
Ingram's  lodgings  in  Sloane  street.  Ingram  quite  consented 
to  lie  in  a  chair  and  smoke,  sometimes  putting  in  a  word  of 
caution  to  bring  Lavender  back  from  the  romantic  Sheila  to 
the  real  Sheila,  sometimes  smiling  at  some  wild  proposal  or 
statement  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  but  always  glad  to  see 
that  the  pretty  idealisms  planted  during  their  stay  in  the  far 
North  were  in  no  danger  ofdying  out  down  here  in  the  South. 
Those  were  great  days,  too,  when  a  letter  arrived  from 
Sheila.  Nothing  had  been  said  about  their  corresponding, 
but  Lavender  had  written  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  London 
and  Sheila  had  answered  for  her  father  and  herself.  It  wanted 
but  a  very  little  amount  of  ingenuity  to  continue  the  inter- 
change of  letters  thus  begun;  and  when  the  well-known  en- 
velope arrived  high  holiday  was  immediately  proclaimed  by 
the  recipient  of  it.  He  did  not  show  Ingram  these  letters, 
of  course,  but  the  contents  of  them  were  soon  bit  by  bit  re- 
vealed. He  was  also  permitted  to  see  the  envelope,  as  if 
Sheila's  handwriting  had  some  magical  charm  about  it.  Some- 
times, indeed,  Ingram  had  himself  a  letter  from  Sheila,  and 
that  was  immediately  shown  to  Lavender.  Was  he  pleased  to 
find  that  these  communications  were  excessively  business-like — 
describing  how  the  fishing  was  going  on,  what  was  doing  in 
the  schools,  and  how  John  the  Piper  was  conducting  himself, 
with  talk  about  the  projected  telegraphic  cable,  the  shooting 
in  Harris,  the  health  of  Bras,  and  other  esoteric  matters? 

Lavender's  communications  with  the  King  of  Borvawere 
of  a  different  nature.  Wonderful  volumes  on  building, 
agriculture,  and  what  not,  tobacco  hailing  from  certain  royal 
sources  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Pyramids,  and  now  and 
again  a  new  sort  of  rifle  or  some  fresh  invention  in  fishing- 
tackle — these  were  the  sort  of  things  that  found  their  way  to 
Lewis.  And  then  in  reply  came  haunches  of  venison,  and 
kegs  of  rare  whisky  and  skins  of  wild  animals,  which,  all  very 
admirable  in  their  way,  were  a  trifle  cumbersome  in  a  couple 
of  moderate  rooms  in  King  street,  St.  James'.  But  here 
Lavender  hit  upon  a  happy  device.  He  had  long  ago  talked 
to  his  aunt  about  the  mysterious  potentate  in  the  far  North, 
who  was  the  ruler  of  man,  beast  and  fish,  and  who  had  an 
only  daughter.  When  these  presents  arrived,  Mrs.  Lavender 
was  informed  that  ihey  were  meant  for  her,  and  was  given  to 


13^  A  PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

understand  that  they  were  the  propitiatory  gifts  of  a  half- 
savage  monarch  who  wished  to  seek  her  friendship.  In  vain 
did  Ingram  warn  Lavender  of  the  possible  danger  of  this 
foolish  joke.  The  young  man  laughed,  and  would  comedown 
to  Sloane  street  with  another  story  of  his  success  as  an  envoy 
of  the  distant  King. 

And  so  the  months  went  slowly  by,  and  Lavender  raved 
about  Sheila,  and  dreamed  about  Sheila,  and  was  always  going 
to  begin  some  splendid  achievement  for  Sheila's  ^ake,  but 
never  just  managed  to  begin.  After  all,  the  future  did  not 
look  very  terrible,  and  the  present  was  satisfactory  enough. 
Mrs.  Lavender  had  no  objection  whatever  to  listening  to  his 
praises  of  Sheila,  and  had  even  gone  the  length  of  approv- 
ing of  the  girl's  photograph  when  it  was  shown  her.  But  at 
the  end  of  six  months  Lavender  suddenly  went  down  to 
Sloane  street,  found  Ingram  in  his  lodgings,  and  said,  "  In- 
gram, I  start  for  Lewis  to-morrow." 

•'  The  more  fool  you  I"  was  the  complacent  reply. 

<*  I  can't  bear  this  any  longer;  I  must  go  and  see  her." 

"  You'll  have  to  bear  worse  if  you  go.  You  don't  know 
what  getting  to  Lewis  is  in  the  Winter.  You'll  be  killed  with 
cold  before  you  see  the  Minch." 

"I  can  stand  a  good  bit  of  cold  when  there's  a  reason  for 
it,"  said  the  young  man ;  "  and  I  have  written  to  Sheila  to  say 
I  should  start  to-morrow," 

"In  that  case  I  had  better  make  use  of  you.  I  suppose 
you  won't  mind  taking  up  to  Sheila  a  sealskin  jacket  that  I 
have  bought  for  her  ?" 

"  That  you  have  bought  for  her!"  said  the  other. 

How  could  he  have  spared  fifteen  pounds  out  of  his  narrow 
income  for  such  a  present  ?  And  yet  he  laughed  at  the  idea  of 
his  ever  having  been  in  love  with  Sheila. 

Lavender  took  the  sealskin  jacket  with  him,  and  started  on 
his  journey  to  the  North.  It  was  certainly  all  that  Ingram 
had  phophesied  in  the  way  of  discomfort,  hardship  and  de- 
lay. But  one  forenoon,  Lavender,  coming  up  from  the  cabin 
of  the  steamer  into  which  he  had  descended  to  escape  from 
the  bitter  wind  and  the  sleet,  saw  before  him  a  strange  thing. 
In  the  middle  of  the  black  sea  and  under  a  dark  gray  sky  lay 
a  long  wonder-land  of  gleaming  snow.  Far  as  the  eye  could 
see  the  successive  headlands  of  pale  white  jutted  out  into  the 
dark  ocean,  until  in  the  South  they  faded  into  a  gray   mist 


A    PRINCESS    OF    TKULE,  I39 

and  became  invisible.  And  when  they  got  into  Stornoway 
harbor,  how  black  seemed  the  waters  of  the  little  bay,  and 
the  hulls  of  the  boats,  and  the  windows  of  the  houses  against 
the  blinding  white  of  the  encircling  hills! 

"Yes,"  said  Lavender  to  the  captain,  "  it  will  be  a  cold 
drive  across  to  Loch  Roag.  I  shall  give  Mackenzie's  man  a 
good  dram  before  we  start." 

But  it  was  not  Mackenzie's  notion  of  hospitality  to  send 
Duncan  to  meet  an  honored  guest,  and  ere  the  vessel  was  fast 
moored  Lavender  had  caught  sight  of  the  well-known  pair  of 
horses  and  the  brown  wagonette,  and  Mackenzie  stamping 
up  and  down  in  the  trampled  snow.  And  this  figure  close 
down  to  the  edge  of  the  quay  ?  Surely,  there  was  something 
ftbout  the  thick  gray  shawl,  the  white  feather,  the  set  of  the 
head,  that  he  knev*'! 

"Why,  Sheila!"  he  cried,  jumping  ashore  before  the  gang- 
way was  shoved  across,  "  whatever  made  you  come  to  Storno- 
way on  such  a  day? 

"And it  is  not  much  my  coming  to  Stornoway,  if  you  will 
come  all  the  way  from  England  to  the  Lewis,"  said  Sheila, 
looking  up  with  her  bright  and  glad  eyes. 

For  six  months  he  had  been  trying  to  recall  the  tones  of 
her  voice  in  looking  at  her  picture,  and  had  failed;  now  he 
fancied  that  she  spoke  more  sweetly  and  musically  than  ever. 

"Ay,  ay,''  said  Mackenzie,  when  he  had  shaken  hands  with 
the  young  man,  "  it  wass  a  piece  of  foolishness,  her  coming 
over  to  meet  you  in  Styornoway;  but  the  girl  will  be  neither 
to  hold  nor  to  bind  when  she  teks  a  foolishness  into  her 
head." 

"  Is  this  the  character  I  hear  of  you.  Sheila?"  he  said; 
and  Mackenzie  laughed  at  his  daughter's  embarrassment,  and 
said  she  was  a  good  lass  for  all  that,  and  bundled  both  the 
young  folks  into  the  inn,  where  luncheon  had  been  provided, 
with  a  blazing  fire  in  the  room,  and  a  kettle  of  hot  water 
steaming  beside  it. 

When  they  got  to  Borva,  Lavender  began  to  see  that 
Mackenzie  had  laid  the  most  subtle  plans  for  reconciling  him 
to  the  hard  weather  of  these  Northern  Winters;  and  the 
young  man,  nothing  loth,  fell  into  his  ways,  and  was  aston- 
ished at  the  amusement  and  interest  that  could  be  got  out  of 
a  residence  in  this  bleak  island  at  such  a  season.  Mackenzie 
discarded  at  once  the  feeble  protection  against  cold  and  wet 


14°  -A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

which  his  guest  had  brought  with  him.  He  gave  him  a  pait 
of  his  own  knickerbockers  and  enormous  boots;  he  made 
him  wear  a  frieze  coat  borrowed  from  Duncan;  he  insisted 
on  his  turning  down  the  flap  of  a  sealskin  cap  and  tying  the 
ends  under  his  chin;  and  thus  equipped  they  started  on  many 
a  rare  expedition  around  the  coast.  But  on  their  first  going 
out,  Mackenzie,  looking  at  him,  said  with  some  chagrin, 
"  Will  they  wear  gloves  when  they  go  shooting  in  your  coun- 
try ?" 

_"  Oh," said  Lavender,  "these  are  only  a  pair  of  old  dog- 
skins I  use  chiefly  to  keep  my  hands  clean.  You  see  I  have 
cut  out  the  trigger  finger.  And  they  keep  your  hands  from 
being  numbed,  you  know,  with  the  cold  or  the  rain." 

"There  will  be  not  much  need  of  that  after  a  httle  while," 
said  Mackenzie;  and  indeed,  after  half  an  hour's  tramping 
over  snow  and  climbing  over  rocks,  Lavender  was  well  in- 
clined to  please  the  old  man  by  tossing  the  gloves  into  the 
sea,  for  his  hands  were  burning  with  heat. 

Then  the  pleasant  evenings  after  all  the  fatigues  of  the 
day_  were  over,  clothes  changed,  dinner  despatched,  and 
Sheila  at  the  open  piano  in  that  warm  little  drawing-room, 
with  its  strange  shells  and  fishes  and  birds! 

Love  in  thine  eyes  for  ever  plays  ; 
He  in  thy  snowy  bosom  strays, 

they  sang,  just  as  in  the  by-gone  times  of  Summer;  and  now 
old  Mackenzie  had  got  on  a  bit  further  in  his  musical  studies, 
and  could  hum  with  the  best  of  them. 

He  makes  thy  rosy  lips  his  care, 
And  walks  the  mazes  of  thy  hair. 

There  was  no  Winter  at  all  in  the  snug  little  room,  with  its 
crimson  fire  and  closed  shutters  and  songs  of  happier  times. 
*'  When  the  rosy  morn  appearing"  had  nothing  inappropriate 
in  It;  and  if  they  particularly  studied  the  words  of'Ohwert 
thou  in  the  cauld  blast,"  it  was  only  that  Sheila  might  teach 
her  companion  the  Scotch  pronunication,  as  far  as  she  knew 
It.  And  once,  half  in  joke,  Lavender  said  he  could  believe 
It  was  Summer  again  if  Sheila  had  only  on  her  slate-gray  silk 
dress,  with  the  red  ribbon  around  her  neck;  and  sure  enough, 
after  dinner  she  came  down  in  that  dress,  and  Lavender  took 
her  hand  and  kissed  it  in  gratitude.  Just  at  that  moment, 
too,  Mackenzie  began  to  swear  at  Duncan  for  not  having 
brought  him  his  pipe,  and  not  only  went  out  of  the  room  for 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  141 

it,  but  was  a  full  half  hour  in  finding  it.     When  he  came  iu 
again  he  was  singing  carelessly, 

Love  in  thine  eyes  for  ever  plays. 

just  as  if  he  had  got  his  pipe  around  the  corner. 

For  it  had  been  all  explained  by  this  time,  you  know,  and 
Sheila  had  in  a  cuuple  of  trembling  words  pledged  away  her 
life,  and  her  faiher  had  given  his  consent.  More  than  that 
he  would  have  done  for  the  girl,  if  need  were;  and  when  he 
saw  the  perfect  happiness  shining  in  her  eyes — when  he  saw 
that,  through  some  vague  feelings  of  compunction  or  grati- 
tude, or  even  exuberant  joy,  she  was  more  than  usually  affec- 
tionate toward  himself — he  grew  reconciled  to  the  ways  of 
Providence,  and  was  ready  to  believe  that  Ingram  had  done 
them  all  a  good  turn  in  bringing  his  friend  from  the  South  with 
him.  If  there  was  any  haunting  fear  at  all,  it  was  about  the 
possibility  of  Sheila's  husband  refusing  to  live  in  Stornoway 
even  for  half  the  year  or  a  portion  of  the  year;  but  did  not 
the  young  man  express  himself  as  delighted  beyond  measure 
with  Lewis  and  the  Lewis  people,  and  the  sports  and  scenery 
and  climate  of  the  island  ?  If  Mackenzie  could  have  bought 
fine  weather  at  twenty  pounds  a  day.  Lavender  would  have 
gone  back  to  London  with  the  conviction  that  there  was  only 
one  thing  better  than  Lewis  in  Summer-time,  and  that  was 
Lewis  in  time  of  snow  and  frost. 

The  blow  fell.  One  evening  a  distinct  thaw  set  in,  during 
the  night  the  wind  went  around  to  Southwest,  and  in  tli£ 
morning,  lol  the  very  desolation  of  desolation.  Suainabhal, 
Mealasabhal,  Cracabhal  were  all  hidden  away  behind  dreary 
folds  of  mist;  a  slow  and  steady  rain  poured  down  from  the 
lowering  skies  on  the  wet  rocks,  the  marshy  pasture  land  and 
the  leafless  bushes;  the  Atlantic  lay  dark  under  a  gray  fog, 
and  you  could  scarcely  see  across  the  loch  in  front  of  the 
house.  Sometimes  the  wind  freshened  a  bit,  and  howled  about 
the  house  or  dashed  showers  against  the  streaming  panes;  but 
ordinarily  there  was  no  sound  but  the  ceaseless  hissing  of  the 
rain  on  the  wet  gravel  at  the  door  and  the  rush  of  the  waves 
along  the  black  rocks;  All  signs  of  life  seemed  to  have  fled 
from  the  earth  and  the  sky.  Bird  and  beast  had  alike  taken 
shelter,  and  not  even  a  gull  or  a  sea-pye  crossed  the  melan- 
choly lines  of  moorland,  which  were  half  obscured  by  the 
mist  of  the  rain. 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  fine  weather  always,"  said  Lavender, 


142  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

cheerfully,  when  Mackenzie  was  affecting  to  be  greatly  sur- 
prised to  find  such  a  thing  as  rain  in  the  Island  of  Lewis. 

"  No,  that  iss  quite  true,"  said  the  old  man.  "  It  wass 
ferry  good  weather  we  were  having  since  you  hef  come  here. 
And  what  iss  a  little  rain  ? — Oh,  nothing  at  all.  You  will  see 
it  will  go  away  whenever  the  wind  goes  around." 

With  that  Mackenzie  would  again  go  out  to  the  front  of  the 
house,  take  a  turn  up  and  down  the  wet  gravel,  and  pretend 
to  be  scanning  the  horizon  for  signs  of  a  change.  Sheila,  a 
good  deal  more  honest,  went  about  her  household  duties,  say- 
ing merely  to  Lavender,  "  I  am  very  sorry  the  weather  has 
broken,  but  it  may  clear  before  you  go  away   from   Borva." 

"  Before  I  go  ?     Do  you  expect  it  to  rain  for  a  week  ?" 

"Perhaps  it  will  not,  but  it  is  looking  very  bad  to-day," 
said  Sheila. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  said  the  yoting  man,  "though  it 
should  rain  the  skies  down,  if  only  you  would  keep  in  doors. 
Sheila.  But  you  do  go  out  in  such  a  reckless  fashion.  You 
don't  seem  to  reflect  that  it  is  raining." 

"  I  do  not  get  wet, "she said. 

"  Why,  when  you  came  up  from  the  shore  half  an  hour 
ago  your  hair  was  as  wet  as  possible,  and  your  face  all  red 
and  gleaming  w'ith  the  rain." 

"  But  I  am  none  the  worse.  And  I  am  not  wet  now.  It 
is  impossible  that  you  will  always  keep  in  a  room  if  you 
have  things  to  do  ;  and  a  little  rain  does  not  hurt  any 
one." 

"It  occurs  to  me.  Sheila,"  he  observed  slowly,  "that 
you  are  an  exceedingly  obstinate  and  self-willed  young  per- 
son, and  that  no  one  has  ever  exercised  any  proper  control 
over  you." 

She  looked  up  for  a  moment  with  a  sudden  glance  of  sur- 
prise and  pain;  but  she  saw  in  his  eyes  that  he  meant  noth- 
ing, and  she  went  forward  to  him,  putting  her  hand  in  his 
hand,  and  saying  with  a  smile,  "  I  amvery  wilhng  to  be  con- 
trolled." 

"Are  you  really?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  hear  my  commands.  You  shall  not  go  out  in  time 
of  rain  without  putting  something  over  your  head  or  taking 
an  umbrella.  You  shall  not  go  out  in  the  Maighdean-mhara 
without  taking  some  one  with  you  besides  Mairi.     You  shall 


A    rRlNLKbS    OF    THULE.  1 43 

never,  if  you  are  away  from  home,  go  within  fifty  yards  of 
the  sea,  so  long  as  there  is  snow  on  the  rocks." 

"  But  that  is  so  very  many  things  already ;  is  it  not  enough?'' 
said  Sheila. 

"  You  will  faithfully  remember  and  observe  these  rules?" 

« I  will." 

"  Then  you  are  a  more  obedient  girl  then  I  imagined  or 
expected;  and  you  may  now,  if  you  are  good,  have  the  satis- 
faction of  offering  me  a  glass  of  sherry  and  a  biscuit,  for, 
rain  or  no  rain,  Lewis  is  a  dreadful  place  for  making  people 
hungry." 

Mackenzie  need  not  have  been  afraid.  Strange  as  it  may 
appear,  Lavender  was  well  content  with  the  wet  weather.  No 
depression  or  impatience  or  remonstrance  was  visible  on  his 
face  when  he  went  to  the  blurred  windows,  day  after  day,  to 
see  only  the  same  desolate  picture — the  dark  sea,  the  wet 
rocks,  the  gray  mists  over  the  moorland  and  the  shining  of  the 
red  gravel  before  the  house.  He  would  stand  with  his  hands 
in  his  pocket  and  whistle  "  Love  in  thine  eyes  forever  plays." 
just  as  if  he  were  looking  out  on  a  cheerful  Summer  sunrise. 
When  he  and  Sheila  went  to  the  door,  and  were  received 
by  a  cold  blast  of  wet  wind  and  a  driving  shower  of  rain,  he 
would  slam  the  door  to  again,  with  a  laugh,  and  pull  the  girl 
back  into  the  house.  Sometimes  she  would  not  be  con- 
trolled; and  then  he  would  accompany  her  about  the  garden 
as  she  attended  to  her  duties,  or  would  go  down  to  the  shore 
with  her  to  give  Bras  a  run.  From  these  excursions  he  return- 
ed in  the  best  of  spirits,  with  a  fine  color  in  his  face;  until, 
having  got  accustomed  to  heavy  boots,  impervious  frieze 
and  the  discomfort  of  wet  hands,  he  grew  to  be  about  as  in- 
different to  the  rain  as  Sheila  herself,  and  went  fishing  or 
shooting  or  boating  with  much  content,  whether  it  was  wet 
or  dry.  . 

"It  has  been  the  happiest  month  of  my  life — I  know  that," 
he  said  to  Mackenzie  as  they  stood  together  on  the  quay  at 
Stornoway. 

"  And  I  hope  you  will  hef  many  like  it  in  the  Lewis,"  said 
the  old  man,  cheerfully, 

"  I  think  I  should  soon  learn  to  become  a  Highlander  up 
here,"  said  Lavender,  "  if  Sheila  would  only  teach  me  the 
Gaelic." 

"The    Gaelic!"    cried    Mackenzie    impatiently.     "The 


144 


K    PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 


Gaelic!  It  is  none  of  the  gentlemen  who  will  come  here  in 
the  Autumn  will  want  the  Gaelic ;  and  what  for  would  you 
want  the  Gaelic— ay,  if  you  was  staying  here  all  the  year 
round  ?" 

"  But  Sheila  will  teach  me  all  the  same,  won't  you,  Sheila?" 
he  said,  turning  to  his  companion,  who  was  gazing  somewhat 
blankly  at  the  rough  steamer  and  at  the  rough  gray  sea  be- 
yond the  harbor. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl;  she  seemed  in  no   mood  for  joking. 

Lavender  returned  to  town  more   in  love  than   ever;  and 

soon  the  news  of  his  engagement  was  spread  abroad,   he 

nothing    loath.     Most    of    his     club-friends    laughed,    ani 

prophesied  it  would  come  to  nothing.     How  could  a  man  in 

Lavender's  position  marry  anybody  but  an  heiress?  He  could 

not  afford  to  go  and  marry  a  fisherman's  daughter.     Otht:t--s 

came  to  the  conclusion  that  artists  and   writers  and  all   th:it 

sort  of  people  were  incomprehensible,  and  said  "  Poor  be-.;- 

gar!''   when  they  thought  of  the  fashion  in  which   Lavender 

had  ruined  his  chances   in  life.     His  lady  friends,  howevc;.', 

were  much  more  sympathetic.  There  was  a  dash  of  romact  £ 

in  the  story;  and  would  not  the  Highland  girl  be  a  curios!- .f 

a  little  while  after  she  came  to  town  !     Was  she  like  any  cif 

the  pictures  Mr.  Lavender   had   hanging  up  in   his   roon!>? 

Had  he  not  even  a  sketch  of  her?     An  artist,   and  yet   n-jt 

have  a  portrait  of  the  girl  he  had  chosen  to  marry?  Laven&j^ 

had  no  portrait  of  Sheila  to  show.     Some  little  photograpFx? 

he  had  he  kept  for  his  own  pocket-book,  while  in  vain  had  he 

tried  to  get  some  sketch  or  picture  that  would  convey  to  the 

world  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances  some  notion  of  his 

future  bride.     They   were  left,  to   draw  on  their   imagination 

for  some  presentment  of  the  coming  princess. 

He  told  Mrs.  Lavender,  of  course.  She  said  little,  but 
sent  for  Edward  Ingram.  Him  she  questioned  in  a  cautious, 
close  and  yet  apparently  indifferent  way,  and  then  merely  said 
that  Frank  was  very  impetuous,  that  it  was  a  pity  he  had  re- 
solved on  manying  out  of  his  own  sphere  of  life,  but  that 
she  hoped  the  young  lady  from  the  Highlands  would  prove  a 
good  wife  to  him. 

'<  I  hope  he  will  prove  a  good  husband  to  her,"  said  In- 
gram, with  unusual  sharpness. 

"  Frank  is  very  impetuous."  That  was  all  Mrs.  Lavender 
would  say. 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  I45 

By  and  by,  as  the  spring  grew  on,  and  the  time  of  the 
marriage  was  coming  nearer,  the  important  business  of  taking 
and  furnishing  a  house  for  Sheila's  reception  occupied  the  at- 
tention of  the  young  man  from  morning  till  night.  He  had 
been  somewhat  disappointed  at  the  cold  fashion  in  which  his 
aunt  looked  upon  his  choice,  admitting  everything  he  had 
to  say  in  praise  of  Sheila,  but  never  expressing  any  approval 
of  his  conduct,  or  hope  about  the  future;  but  now  she  showed 
herself  most  amiably  and  generously  disposed.  She  supplied 
the  young  man  with  abundant  funds  wherewith  to  furnish  the 
house  according  to  his  own  fancy.  It  was  a  small  place, 
fronting  a  somewhat  commonplace  square  in  Notting  Hill, 
but  it  was  to  be  a  miracle  of  artistic  adornment  inside.  He 
tortured  himself  for  days  over  lival  shades  and  hues;  he  drew 
designs  for  the  chairs;  he  hmiself  painted  a  good  deal  of 
paneling;  and,  in  short,  gave  up  his  whole  time  to  making 
Sheila's  future  home  beautiful.  His  aunt  regarded  these  pre- 
parations with  little  interest,  but  she  certainly  gave  her 
nephew  ample  means  to  indulge  the  eccentricities  of  his  fancy. 

"Isn't  she  a  dear  old  lady?"  said  Lavender  one  night  to 
Ingram.  "  Look  here!  A  check,  received  this  morning, 
for  two  hundred  pounds,  for  plate  and  glass." 

Ingram  looked  at  the  bit  of  pale  green  paper:  "  I  wish  you 
had  earned  the  money  yourself,  or  done  without  the  plate 
until  you  could  buy  it  with  your  own  money." 

"Oh,  confound  it,  Ingram!  you  carry  your  puritanical 
theories  too  far.  Doubtless  I  shall  earn  my  own  living  by 
and  by.     Give  me  time." 

'*  It  is  now  nearly  a  year  since  you  thought  of  marrying 
Sheila  Mackenzie,  and  you  have  not  done  a  stroke  of  work 
yet." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  1  have  worked  a  good  deal  of  late, 
as  you  will  see  when  you  come  up  to  my  rooms." 

"  Have  you  sold  a  single  picture  since  last  summer  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  make  people  buy  my  pictures  if  they  don't 
choose  to  do  so." 

*'  Have  you  made  any  effort  to  get  them  sold,  or  to  come 
to  any  arrangement  with  any  of  the  dealers  ?  " 

"I  have  been  too  busy  of  late— looking  after  this  house, 
you  know,"  said  Lavender  with  an  air  of  apology. 

"  You  were  not  too  busy  to  paint  a  fan  for  Mrs.  Lorraine, 
that  people  say  must  have  occupied  you  for  months." 


^4^  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

Lavender  laughed:  "  Do  you  know,  Ingram,  I  think  you 
are  jealous  of  Mrs.  Lorraine,  on  account  of  Sheila? 
Come,  you  shall  go  and  see  her." 

"  No,  thank  you,'' 

*•  Are  you  afraid  of  your  Puritan  principles  giving  way  ?  " 

'•  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  a  very  foolish  boy,"  said  the 
other,  with  a  good-humored  shrug  of  resignation;  "but  I 
hope  to  see  you  mend  when  you  marry." 

'•  Ah,  then  you  wi7/ see  a  difference!  "  said  Lavender  se- 
riously; and  so  the  dispute  ended. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Ingram  should  go  up  to  Lewis 
to  the  marriage,  and  after  the  cerem.ony  in  Stornoway  return 
to  Borva  with  Mr.  Mackenzie,  to  remain  wiih  him  a  few  days. 
But  at  the  la^t  moment  Ingram  was  summoned  down  to 
Devonshire  on  account  of  the  serious  illness  of  some  near 
relative,  and  accordingly  Frank  Lavender  started  by  him- 
self to  bring  back  with  him  his  Highland  bride.  His  stay 
m  Borva  was  short  enough  on  this  occasion.  At  the  end  of 
It  there  came  a  certain  wet  and  boisterous  day,  the  occur- 
rences in  which  he  afterwards  remembered  as  if  they  had 
taken  place  in  a  dream.  There  were  many  faces  about,  a 
confusion  of  tongues,  a  good  deal  of  dram-drinking,  a  skirl 
of  pipes,  and  a  hurry  through  the  rain;  but  all  these  things 
gave  place  to  the  occasional  glance  he  got  from  a  pair  of 
timid  and  trusting  and  beautiful  eyes.  Yet  Sheila  was  not 
Sheila  m  that  dress  of  white,  with  her  face  a  trifle  pale.  She 
was  more  his  own  Sheila  when  she  had  donned  her  rough 
garments  of  blue,  and  when  she  stood  on  the  wet  deck  of 
the  vessel,  with  a  great  gray  shawl  around  her,  talking  to 
her  father  with  a  brave  effort  at  cheerfulness,  although  her 
hp  would  occasionally  quiver  as  one  or  other  of  her  friends 
from  Borva— many  of  them  barefooted  children— came  up 
to  bid  her  good-bye.  Her  father  talked  rapidly,  with  a 
grand  affectation  of  indifference.  He  swore  at  the  weather. 
He  bade  her  see  that  Bras  was  properly  fed,  and  if  the  sea 
broke  over  his  box  in  the  night,  he  was  to  be  rubbed  dry, 
and  let  cut  in  the  morning  for  a  run  up  and  down  the  deck. 
Slie  was  not  to  forget  the  parcel  directed  to  an  innkeeper  at 
Oban.  They  would  find  Oban  a  very  nice  place  at  which 
to  break  the  journey  to  London,  but  as  fur  Greenock,  Mack- 
enzie could  find  no  words  with  which  to  describe  Greenock. 

And  then,  in  the  midst  of  all  this.  Sheila  suddenly  said* 
"  Papa,  when  does  the  steamer  leave  ?" 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE,  I47 

"  In  a  few  minutes.  They  have  got  nearly  all  the  cargo 
on  board." 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  great  favor,  papa?" 

"Ay,  but  what  is  it,  Sheila?" 

"  I  want  you  not  to  stay  here  till  the  boat  sails,  and  then 
you  will  have  all  the  people  on  the  quay  vexing  you  when 
you  are  going  away  I  want  you  to  bid  good-bye  to  us  now, 
and  drive  away  around  to  the  point,  and  we  shall  see  you  the 
last  of  all  when  the  steamer  has  got  out  of  the  harbor." 

«  Ferry  well,  Sheila,  I  will  do  that,"  he  said,  knowing  well 
why  the  girl  wished  it. 

So  father  and  daughter  bade  good-bye  to  each  other;  and 
Mackenzie  went  on  shore  with  his  face  down,  and  said  not  a 
word  to  any  of  his  friends  on  the  quay,  but  got  into  the 
wagonette,  and,  lashing  his  horses,  drove  rapidly  away.  As 
he  had  shaken  hands  with  Lavender,  Lavender  had  said  to 
him,  •■■  Well,  we  shall  soon  be  back  in  Borva  again  to  see 
you;"  and  the  old  man  had  merely  tightened  the  grip  of  his 
hand  as  he   left. 

The  roar  of  the  steam-pipes  ceased,  the  throb  of  the  en- 
gines struck  the  water,  and  the  great  steamer  steamed  away 
from  the  quay  and  out  of  the  plain  of  the  harbor  into  a  wide 
world  of  gray  waves  and  wind  and  rain.  There  stood 
Mackenzie  as  they  passed,  the  dark  figure  clearly  seen  against 
the  pallid  colors  of  the  dismal  day;  and  Sheila  waved  a 
handkerchief  to  him  until  Stornoway  and  its  lighthouse  and 
all  the  promontories  and  bays  of  the  great  island  had  faded 
into  the  white  mists  that  lay  along  the  horizon.  And  then, 
her  arm  fell  to  her  side,  and  for  a  moment  she  stood  be- 
wildered, with  a  strange  look  in  her  eyes  of  grief,  and  almost 
of  despair. 

"  Sheila,  my  darling,  you  must  go  below  now,"  said  her 
companion;  "  you  are  almost  dead  with  cold." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  though  she  had  scarce- 
ly heard  what  he  said.  But  his  eyes  were  full  of  pity  for  her; 
he  drew  her  closer  to  him,  and  put  his  arms  around  her,  and 
then  she  hid  her  head  in  his  bosom  and  sobbed  there  like  a 
child. 


14^  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


PART  V. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FAIRY-LAND. 

"Welcome  to  London — !" 

He  was  about  to  add  "  Sheila,"  but  suddenly  stopped.  The 
girl,  who  had  hastily  come  forward  to  meet  him  with  a  glad 
look  in  her  eyes  and  with  both  hands  out-stretched,  doubtless 
perceived  the  brief  embarrassment  of  the  moment,  and  was 
perhaps  a  liittle  amused  by  it.  But  she  took  no  notice  of  it; 
she  merely  advanced  to  him  and  caught  both  his  hands,  and 
said,  "  And  are  you  very  well  ?" 

It  was  the  old  and  familiar  salutation,  uttered  in  the  same 
odd,  gentle,  insinuating  fashion,  and  in  the  same  low  and 
sweet  voice.  Sheila's  s  ay  in  Oban  and  the  few  days  she  had 
already  spent  in  London,  had  not  taught  her  the  difference 
between  "very  "  and  "  ferry." 

"  It  is  so  strange  to  hear  you  speak  in  London — Mrs. 
Lavender,"  he  said,  with  rather  a  wry  face  as  he  pronounced 
her  full  and  proper  title. 

And  now  it  was  Sheila's  turn  to  look  a  bit  embarrassed  and 
color,  and  appear  uncertain  whether  to  be  vexed  or  pleased, 
when  her  husband  himself  broke  in  in  his  usual  impetuous 
fashion:  "  I  say,  Ingram,  don't  be  a  fool!  Of  course  you 
must  call  her  Sheila — unless  when  there  are  people  here,  and 
then  you  must  please  yourself.  Why,  the  poor  girl  has  enough 
of  strange  things  and  names  about  her  already.  I  don't 
know  how  she  keeps  her  head.  It  would  bewilder  me,  I 
knovif;  but  I  can  see  that,  after  she  has  stood  at  the  window 
for  a  time,  and  begun  to  get  dazed  by  all  the  wonderful 
sights  and  sounds  outside,  she  suddenly  withdraws  and  fixes 
all  her  attention  on  some  little  domestic  duty,  just  as  if  she 
were  hanging  on  to  the  practical  things  of  life  to  assure  her- 
self it  isn't  alia  dream.  Isn't  that  so,  Sheila  ?"  he  said,  put- 
ting his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  You  oHght  not  to  watch  me  like  that,"  she  said  with  a 
smile.     "  But  it  is  the  noise  that  is  most  bewildering.     There 


A   PRINCESS  OF    THULE.  I49 

are  many  places  I  will  know  already  when  I  see  t!nem,  many 
places  and  things  I  have  known  in  pictures  ;  but  now  the 
size  of  them,  and  the  noise  of  carriages,  and  the  people  al- 
ways passing,  always  different,  always  strangers,  so  that  you 
never  see  the  same  people  any  more.  But  I  am  getting  very 
much  accustomed  to  it.'' 

"  You  are  trying  very  hard  to  get  accustomed  to  it,  any 
way,  my  good  girl,"  said  her  husband. 

"You  need  not  be  in  a  hurry;  you  may  begin  to  regret 
some  day  that  you  have  not  a  little  of  that  feehng  of  wonder 
left,"  said  Ingram.  "  Bat  you  have  not  told  me  anything  of 
what  you  think  about  London,  and  of  how  you  like  it,  and 
how  you  like  your  house,  and  what  you  have  done  with  Bras, 
and  a  thousand  other  things/' 

"  I  well  tell  you  all  that  directly,  when  I  have  got  for  you 
some  wine  and  some  biscuits," 

"  Sheila,  you  can  ring  for  them,"  said  her  husband,  but 
she  had  by  that  time  departed  on  her  mission.  Presently  she 
returned,  and  waited  upon  Ingram  just  as  if  she  had  been  in 
her  father's  house  in  B  jrva,  with  the  gentlemen  in  a  hurry  to 
go  out  to  the  fishing,  and  herself  the  only  one  who  could 
serve  them. 

She  put  a  small  table  close  by  the  French  window;  she 
drew  back  the  curtains  as  far  as  they  would  go,  to  show  the 
sunshine  of  a  bright  forenoon  in  May  lighting  up  the  trees 
in  the  square  and  gleaming  on  the  pale  and  tall  fronts  of  the 
houses  beyond;  and  she  wheeled  in  three  low  easy-chairs,  so 
as  to  front  this  comparatively  cheerful  prospect.  Somehow 
or  other,  it  seemed  quite  natural  that  Sheila  should  v/hecl  in 
those  chairs.  It  was  certainly  no  disrespect  on  the  part  of 
either  her  husband  or  her  visitor  which  caused  both  of  them 
to  sit  still  and  give  her  her  own  way  about  such  things.  In- 
deed, Lavender  had  not  as  yet  ever  attempted  to  impress 
upon  Sheila  the  necessity  of  cultivating  the  art  of  helplessness. 
That,  with  other  social  gracts,  would,  perhaps,  come  in 
good  time.  She  would  soon  acquire  the  habits  and  ways  of 
her  friends  and  acquaintances,  without  his  trying  to  force 
upon  her  a  series  of  affectations,  which  would  only  embarrass 
her  and  cloud  the  perfect  frankness  and  spontaneity  of  her 
nature.  Of  one  thing  he  was  quite  assured — that  whatever 
mistakes  Sheila  might  make  in  society  they  would  never 
render  her  ridiculous.    Strangers  rnight  not  know  the  absolute 


150  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

sincerity  of  every  word  and  act,  which  gave  her  a  courage 
that  had  no  fear  of  criticism,  but  they  could  at  least  see  the 
simple  grace  and  dignity  of  the  girl,  and  that  natural  ease  of 
manner  which  is  beyond  the  reach  of  cultivation,  being 
mainly  the  result  ot  a  thorough  consciousness  of  honesty. 
To  burden  her  with  rules  and  regulations  of  conduct  would 
be  to  produce  the  very  catastrophes  he  wished  to  avoid. 
Where  no  attempt  is  made,  failure  is  impossible;  and  he  was 
meanwhile  well  content  that  Sheila  should  simply  appear  as 
Sheila,  even  although  she  might  draw  in  a  chair  for  a  guest, 
or  so  far  forget  her  dignity  as  to  pour  out  some  wine  for  her 
husband. 

"  After  all,  Sheila,"  said  Lavender,  "  hadn't  I  better  begin 
and  tell  Ingram  about  your  surprise  and  delight  when  you 
came  near  Oban  and  saw  the  tall  hotels  and  the  trees  ?  It 
was  the  trees,  I  think,  that  struck  you  most,  because,  you 
know,  those  in  Lewis — well,  to  tell  the  truth — the  fact  is, 
the  trees  of  Lewis — as  I  was  saying,  the  trees  of  Lewis  are 
not  just — they  cannot  be  said  to  be — " 

"You  bad  boy,  to  say  anything  against  the  Lewis!"  ex- 
claimed Sheila;  and  Ingram  held  that  she  was  right,  and  that 
there  were  certain  sorts  of  ingratitude  more  disgraceful  than 
others,  and  that  this  was  just  about  the  worst. 

"  Oh,  I  have  brought  all  the  good  away  from  Lewis,"  said 
Lavender  with  a  careless  impertinence. 

"  No,"  said  Sheila,  proudly.  "You  have  not  brought  away 
my  papa,  and  there  is  not  any  one  in  this  country  I  have  seen 
as  good  as  he  is." 

"  My  dear,  your  experience  of  the  thirty  millions  of  folks 
in  these  islands  is  quite  convincing,  I  was  wholly  in  the 
wrong;  and  if  you  forgive  me  we  shall  celebrate  our  recon- 
ciliation in  a  cigarette— that  is  to  say,  Ingram  and  I  will  per- 
form the  rites,  and  you  can  look  on." 

So  Sheila  went  away  to  get  the  cigarettes  also. 
"  You  don't  say  you  smoke  in  your  drawing-room,  Laven- 
der?" said    Ingram,    mindful  of  the   fastidious  ways  of  his 
friend,  even  when  he  had  bachelor's  rooms  in  King  street. 

"Don't  I,  though?  I  smoke  everywhere — all  over  the 
place.  Don't  you  see  we  have  no  visitors  yet.  No  one  is  sup- 
posed to  know  we  have  come  South,  Sheila  must  get  all  sorts 
of  things  before  she  can  be  introduced  to  my  friends  and  my 
aunt's  friends,  and  the  house  must  be  put  to  rights,  too.     You 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  151 

wouldn't  have  her  po  to  see  my  aunt  in  that  sailor's  costume 
she  used  to  rush  about  in  up  in  Lewis?" 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  would  have,"  said  Ingram,  •'  She 
cannot  look  more  handsome  in  any  other  dress," 

*'  Why,  my  aunt  would  fancy  I  had  married  a  savage;  I 
believe  she  fears  something  of  the  sort  now.'' 

"  And  you  haven't  told  even  her  that  you  are  in  London  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  Lavender,  that  is  a  precious  silly  performance. 
Suppose  she  hears  of  your  being  in  town,  what  will  you  say 
to  her?" 

"  I  should  tell  her  I  wanted  a  few  days  to  get  my  wife 
properly  dressed  before  taking  her  about." 

Ingram  shrugged  his  shoulders:  "  Perhaps  you  are  right. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  it  would  be  better  if  you  waited  six 
months  before  you  introduced  Sheila  to  your  friends.  At 
present  you  seem  to  be  keeping  the  footlights  turned  down 
until  everything  is  ready  for  the  first  scene,  and  then  Sheila  is 
to  burst  upon  society  in  a  blaze  of  light  and  color.  Well, 
that  is  harmless  enough;  but  look  here!  You  don't  know 
much  about  her  yet;  you  will  be  mainly  anxious  to  hear 
what  the  audience,  as  it  were,  say  of  her;  and  there  is  just 
a  chance  of  your  adopting  their  impressions  and  opinions  of 
Sheila,  seeing  that  you  have  no  very  fixed  ones  of  your  own. 
Now,  what  your  social  circle  may  think  about  her  is  a  diffi- 
cult thing  to  decide;  and  I  confess  I  would  rather  have 
seen  you  remain  six  months  in  Lewis  before  bringing  her  up 
here." 

Ingram  was  at  least  a  candid  friend.  It  was  not  the  first 
nor  the  hundredth  time  that  Frank  Lavender  had  to  endure 
small  lectures,  uttered  in  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  and  yet 
with  an  indifference  of  manner  which  showed  that  Ingram 
cared  very  little  how  sharply  his  words  struck  home.  He 
rarely  even  apologized  for  his  bluntness.  These  were  his 
opinions;  Lavender  could  take  them  or  leave  them,  as  he 
liked.  And  the  younger  man,  after  finding  his  face  flush  a 
bit  on  being  accused  of  wishing  to  make  a  dramatic  impres- 
sion  with  Sheila's  entrance  into  London  society,  laughed  in  an 
embarrassed  way,  and  said,  "  It  is  impossible  to  be  angry 
with  you,  Ingram,  and  yet  you  do  talk  so  absurdly.  I  won- 
der who  is  likely  to  know  more  about  the  character  of  a  girl 
than  her  own  hu^-band  ?" 


152  A  PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

<*  You  may  in  time;  you  don't  now,"  said  Ingram,  care- 
fully balancing  a  biscuit  on  the  point  of  his  finger. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Lavender,  with  good-natured  impati- 
ence, "  you  are  the  most  romantic  card  I  know,  and  there  is 
no  pleasing  you.  You  have  all  sorts  of  exalted  notions  about 
things,  about  sentiments  and  duties,  and  so  forth.  Well,  all 
that  is  true  enough,  and  would  be  right  enough  if  the  world 
were  filled  with  men  and  women  like  yourself ;  but  then  it 
isn't,  you  see,  and  one  has  to  give  in  to  conventionalities  of 
dress  and  living  and  ceremonies,  if  one  wants  to  retain  one's 
friends.  Now,  I  like  to  see  you  going  about  with  that  wide- 
awake— it  suits  your  brown  complexion  and  beard— and  that 
stick  that  would  do  for  herding  sheep  ;  and  the  costume  looks 
well,  and  is  business-like  and  excellent  when  you're  off  for  a 
walk  over  the  Surrey  downs  or  lying  on  the  river-banks  about 
Henley  or  Cookham;  but  it  isn't,  you  know,  the  sort  of  cus- 
tume  for  a  stroll  in  the  Park." 

"  W  henever  God  withdraws  from  me  my  small  share  of 
common  sense,"  said  Ingram,  slowly,  "so  far  that  I  shall  be- 
gin to  think  of  having  my  clothes  made  for  the  purpose  of 
walking  in  Hyde  Park,  well—" 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  said  Lavender,  "  that  one  must  meet 
one's  friends,  especially  when  one  is  married ;  and  when  you 
know  that  at  a  certain  hour  in  the  forenoon  they  are  all  to  be 
found  in  a  particular  place,  and  that  a  very  pleasant  place, 
and  that  you  will  do  yourself  good  by  having  a  walk  in  the 
fresh  air,  and  so  forth,  I  really  don't  see  anything  very  im- 
moral in  going  down  for  an  hour  or  so  to  the  Park." 

"  Don't  you  think  the  pleasure  of  seeing  one's  friends 
might  be  postponed  till  one  had  done  some  sort  of  good 
day's  work?" 

"There  now!"  cried  Lavender,  *'  that  is  another  of  your 
delusions.  You  are  always  against  superstitions,  and  yet  you 
make  work  a  fetish.  You  do  with  work  just  as  women  do 
with  duty;  they  carry  about  with  them  a  convenient  little 
God,  and  they  are  always  worshiping  it  with  small  sacrifices, 
and  complimenting  themselves  on  a  series  of  little  martyr- 
doms that  are  of  no  good  to  anybody.  Of  course,  duty 
wouldn't  be  duty  if  it  wasn't  disagreeable,  and  when  they  go 
nursing  the  sick— and  they  could  get  it  better  done  for  fifteen 
shillings  a  week  by  somebody  else— they  don't  mind  coming 
back  to  their  families  with  the  s«eds  of  typhus  about  their 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  I53 

gowns;  and  when  they  crush  the  affections  in  order  to  wor- 
ship at  the  shrine  of  duty,  they  don't  consider  that  they 
may  be  making  martyrs  of  other  folks,  who  don't  want  martyr- 
dom and  get  no  sort  of  pleasure  out  of  it.  Now,  what  in  all 
the  world  is  the  good  of  work  a>  work  ?  I  believe  that  work  is 
an  unmistakable  evil,  but  when  it  is  a  necessity  I  suppose 
you  get  some  sort  of  selfish  satisfaction  in  overcoming 
it  ;  and  doubtless  if  there  was  any  immediate  necessity 
in  my  case — I  don't  deny  the  necessity  may  arise,  and  that  I 
should  like  nothing  better  than  to  woik  for  Sheila's  sake — '' 

"Now,  you  are  coming  to  the  point,"  said  Ingram,  who 
had  been  listening  with  his  usual  patience  to  his  friend's 
somewhat  chaotic  speculations.  "  Perhaps  you  may  have  to 
work  for  your  wife's  sake  and  your  own;  and  I  confess  I  am 
surprised  to  see  you  so  content  with  your  present  circum- 
stances. If  your  aunt's  property  legaly  reverted  to  you,  if 
you  had  any  sort  of  family  claim  on  it,  that  would  make  some 
little  difference;  but  you  know  that  any  sudden  quarrel  be- 
tween you  might  leave  you  penniless  to-morrow." 

"In  which  case  I  should  begin  to  woik  to-morrow,  and  I 
should  come  to  you  for  my  first  commission." 

"And  you  shouldn't  have  it.  I  would  leave  you  to  go  and 
fight  the  world  for  yourself;  without  which  a  man  knows 
nothing  of  himself  or  of  his  relations  with  those  around  him." 

"Frank,  dear,  here  are  the  cigarettes,"  said  Sheila,  at  this 
point;  and  as  she  came  and  sat  down  the  discussion  ceased. 

For  Sheila  began  to  tell  her  fiiend  of  all  the  strange  ad- 
ventures that  had  befallen  her  since  she  left  the  far  island  of 
Lewis — how  she  had  seen  with  fear  the  great  mountains  of 
Skye  lit  up  by  the  wild  glare  of  a  stormy  sunrise;  how  she 
had  seen  with  astonishment  the  great  fir  woods  of  Armadale; 
and  how  green  and  beautiful  were  the  shores  of  the  Sound  of 
Mull.  And  then  Oban,  with  its  shining  houses,  its  blue  bay, 
audits  magnificent  trees,  all  lit  up  by  a  fair  and  still  sun- 
shine! She  had  not  imagined  there  was  anywhere  in  the 
world  so  beau'iful  a  place,  and  could  scarcely  believe  that 
London  itself  was  more  rich  and  noble  and  impressive;  for 
there  were  beautiful  ladies  walking  along  the  broad  pavements, 
and  there  were  shops  with  large  windows  that  seemed  to  con- 
tain everything  that  the  mind  could  desire,  and  there  was  a 
whole  fleet  of  yachts  in  the  bay.  But  it  was  the  trees,  above 
all,  that  captivated  her;  and   she   asked   if  they  were   lords 


154  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

who  owned  those  beautiful  houses  built  up  on  the  hill,  and 
half  smothered  among  lilacs  and  ash  trees  and  rowan  trees 
and  ivy. 

"My  darling,"  Lavender  had  said  to  her,  "if  your  papa 
were  to  come  and  live  here,  he  could  buy  half  a  dozen  of  those 
cottages,  gardens  and  all.  They  are  mostly  the  property  of 
well-to-do  shopkeepers.  If  this  little  place  takes  your  fancy, 
what  will  you  say  when  you  go  South— when  you  see  Wim- 
bledon and  Richmond  and  Kew,  with  their  grand  old  com- 
mons and  trees  ?  Why,  you  could  hide  Oban  in  a  corner  of 
Richmond  Park  !" 

"  And  my  papa  has  seen  all  those  places  !" 

"Yes.  Don't  you  think  it  strange  he  should  have  seen 
them  all,  and  known  he  could  live  in  any  one  of  them,  and 
then  gone  away  back  to  Borva  ?" 

"  But  what  would  the  poor  people  have  done  if  he  had 
never  gone  back  ?" 

"  Oh,  some  one  else  would  have  taken  his  place." 

"And  then,  if  he  were  living  here  or  in  London,  he  might 
have  got  tired,  ar.d  he  might  have  wished  to  go  back  to  the 
Lewis  and  see  all  the  people  he  knew  ;  and  then  he  would 
come  among  them  like  a  stranger,  and  have  no  house  to 
go  to." 

Then  Lavender  said  quite  gently,  "Do  you  think,  Sheila, 
you  will  ever  tire  of  living  in  the  South?" 

The  girl  looked  up  quickly,  and  said,  with  a  sort  of  sur- 
prised questioning  in  her  eyes,  "  No,  not  with  you.  But  then 
we  shall  often  go  to  the  Lewis?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  her  husband  said,  "as  often  as  we  can  con- 
veniently. But  it  will  take  some  time  at  first,  you  know,  be- 
fore you  get  to  know  all  my  friends  who  are  to  be  your 
friends,  and  before  you  get  properly  fitted  into  our  social 
circle.  That  will  take  you  a  long  time.  Sheila,  and  you  may 
have  many  annoyances  or  embarrassments  to  encounter;  but 
you  won't  be  very  much  afraid,  my  girl  ?" 

Sheila  merely  looked  up  to  him;  there  was  no  fear  in  the 
frank,  brave  eyes. 

The  first  large  town  she  saw  struck  a  cold  chill  to  her 
heart.  On  a  wet  and  dismal  afternoon  they  sailed  into 
Greenock.  A  heavy  smoke  hung  about  the  black  building- 
yards  and  the  dirty  quays;  the  narrow  and  squalid  streets 
were  filled  with  mud,  and  only  the  poorer  sections  of  the 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULF,  I55 

population  waded  through  the  mire  or  hung  disconsolately 
about  the  corners  of  the  thoroughfares.  A  gloomier  picture 
could  not  well  be  conceived  ;  and  Sheila,  chilled  with  the 
long  and  wet  sail,  and  bewildered  by  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
the  harbor,  was  driven  to  the  hotel  with  a  sore  heart  and  a 
downcast  face. 

"This  is  not  like  London,  Frank?"  she  said,  pretty  nearly 
ready  to  cry  with  disappointment. 

"  This?  No.  Well,  it  is  like  a  part  of  London,  certainly, 
but  not  the  part  you  will  live  in." 

''  But  how  can  we  live  in  the  one  place  without  passing  the 
other  and  being  made  miserable  by  it?  There  was  no  part 
of  Oban  like  this." 

"  Why,  you  will  live  miles  away  from  the  docks  and  quays 
of  London.  You  might  live  for  a  lifetime  in  London  with- 
out ever  knowing  it  had  a  harbor.  Don't  you  be  afraid ,  Sheila. 
You  will  live  in  a  district  where  there  are  far  finer  houses 
than  any  you  saw  in  Oban,  and  far  finer  trees;  and  within  a 
few  minutes'  walk  you  will  find  great  gardens  and  parks,  with 
lakes  in  them  and  v/ild  fowls,  and  you  will  be  able  to  teach 
the  boys  about  how  to  set  the  helm  and  the  sails  when  they  are 
launching  their  small  boats." 

"  I  should  like  that,"  said  Sheila,  her  face  brightening. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  a  boat  yourself?'' 

"Yes,"  she  said,  frankly.  "If  there  were  not  many 
people  there,  we  might  go  out  sometimes  in  the  evening — '' 

Her  husband  laughed  and  took  her  hand:  "You  don't 
understand,  Sheila.  The  boats  the  boys  have  are  little  things 
a  foot  or  two  long — like  the  one  in  your  papa's  bedroom  in 
Borva.  But  many  of  the  boys  would  be  greatly  obliged  to 
you  if  you  would  teach  them  how  to  manage  the  sails  properly, 
for  sometimes  dreadful  shipwrecks  occur." 

"  You  must  bring  them  to  our  house.  I  am  very  fond  of 
little  boys,  when  they  begin  to  forget  to  be  shy,  and  let  you 
become  acquainted  with  them.'' 

"  Well,"  said  Lavender,  "  I  don't  know  many  of  the  boys 
who  sail  boa'.s  in  the  Serpentine;  you  will  have  to  make  their 
acquaintance  yourself.  But  I  know  one  boy  whom  I  must 
bring  to  the  house.  He  is  a  German -Jew  boy,  who  is  going 
to  be  another  Mendelssohn,  his  friends  say.  He  is  a  pretty 
boy,  with  ruddy-brown  hair,  big  black  eyes,  and  a  fine  fore- 
head, and  he  really  sings  and  plays  dehghtfully.     But  you 


156  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

know,  Sheila,  you  must  not  treat  him  as  a  boy ;  for  he  is  over 
fourteen,  I  should  think;  and  if  you  were  to  kiss  him — " 

"He  might  be  angry,"  said  Sheila,  with  perfect  simplicity. 

"I  might,"  said  Lavender;  and  then,  noticing  that  she 
seemed  a  little  surprised,  he  merely  patted  her  head  and 
bade  her  go  and  get  ready  for  dinner. 

Then  came  the  great  climax  of  Sheila's  southward  journey 
— her  arrival  in  London.  She  was  all  anxiety  to  see  her 
future  home;  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  a  fair 
spring  morning  shining  over  the  city.  For  a  couple  of  hours 
before  she  had  sat  and  looked  out  of  the  carriage-window 
as  the  train  whirled  rapidly  through  the  scarcely  awakened 
country,  and  she  had  seen  the  soft  and  beautiful  landscapes 
of  the  South  lit  up  by  the  early  sunlight.  How  the  bright 
little  villages  shone,  wiih  here  and  there  a  gilt  weathercock 
glittering  on  the  spire  of  some  small  gray  church,  while  as 
yet  in  many  valleys  a  pale  gray  mist  lay  along  the  bed  of  the 
level  streams,  or  clung  to  the  dense  woods  on  the  upland 
heights!  Which  was  the  more  beautiful— the  sharp,  clear 
picture,  with  its  brilliant  colors  and  its  awakening  life,  or  the 
more  mystic  landscape  over  which  was  still  drawn  the  tender 
veil  of  the  morning  haze?  She  could  not  tell.  She  only 
knew  that  England,  as  she  then  saw  it,  seemed  a  great 
country  that  was  very  beautiful,  that  had  few  inhabitants, 
and  that  was  still  and  sleepy  and  bathed  in  sunshine.  How 
happy  must  the  people  be  who  lived  in  those  quiet  green 
valleys  by  the  side  of  slow  and  smooth  rivers,  and  amid 
great  woods  and  avenues  and  stately  trees,  ihe  like  of  which 
she  had  not  imagined  in  her  dreams. 

But  from  the  moment  they  got  out  at  Euston  Square  she 
seemed  a  trifle  bewddcred,  and  could  only  do  implicitly  as 
her  husband  bade  her — clinging  to  his  hand,  for  the  most 
part,  as  if  to  make  sure  of  guidance.  She  did,  indeed, 
glance  somewhat  nervously  at  the  hansom  into  which  Laven- 
der put  her,  apparently  asking  how  such  a  tall  and  narrow 
two-wheeled  vehicle  could  be  prevented  toppling  over.  But 
when  he,  having  sent  on  all  their  luggage  by  a  respectable 
old  four-wheeler,  got  into  the  hansom  beside  her,  and  put 
his  hand  inside  her  arm,  and  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer,  that 
she  should  have  such  a  pleasant  morning  to  welcome  her  to 
London,  she  said,  "Yes,"  mechanically,  and  only  looked 
out  in  a  wistful  fashion  at  the  great  houses  and  trees  of  Eus- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  157 

ton  Square,  the  mighty  and  roaring  stream  of  omnibuses,  the 
droves  of  strangers,  mostly  clad  in  black,  as  if  they  were 
going  to  church,  and  the  pale  blue  smoke  that  seemed  to 
mix  with  the  sunshine  and  make  it  co'd  and  distant. 

They  were  in  no  hurry,  these  two,  on  that  still  morning, 
and  so,  to  impress  Sheila  all  at  once  with  a  sense  of  the 
greatness  and  grandeur  of  London,  he  made  the  cabman  cut 
down  by  Park  Crescent  and  Portland  Place  to  Regent  Cir- 
cus. Then  they  went  along  Oxford  Street;  and  there  were 
crowded  omnibuses  taking  young  men  into  the  city,  while 
all  the  pavements  were  busy  with  hurrying  passersby.  What 
multitudes  of  unknown  faces,  unknown  to  her  and  unknown 
to  each  other?  These  people  did  not  speak;  they  only  hur- 
ried on,  each  intent  upon  his  own  affairs,  caring  nothing, 
apparently,  for  the  din  around  them,  and  looking  so  strange 
and  sad  in  their  black  clothes  in  the  pale  and  misty  sun- 
light. 

"You  are  in  a  trance,  Sheila,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer.  Surely  she  had  wandered  into  some 
magical  city,  for  now  the  houses  on  one  side  of  the  way  sud- 
denly ceased,  and  she  saw  before  her  a  great  and  undulating 
extent  of  green,  with  a  border  of  beautiful  flowers,  and  with 
groups  of  trees  that  met  the  sky  all  along  the  Southern  hori- 
zon. Did  the  green  and  beautiful  country  she  had  seen 
shoot  in  thus  inco  the  heart  of  the  town,  or  w^as  there  another 
city  far  away  on  the  other  side  of  the  trees?  The  place  was 
almost  as  deserted  as  those  still  valleys  she  had  passed  by  in 
the  morning.  Here,  in  the  street,  there  was  the  roar  of  a 
passing  crowd,  but  there  was  a  long  and  almost  deserted 
stretch  of  park,  wiLh  winding  roads  and  umbrageous  trees, 
on  which  the  wan  sunlight  fell  from  between  loose  masses  of 
half-golden  cloud. 

Then  they  passed  Kensington  Gardens,  and  there  were 
more  people  walking  down  the  broad  highways  between  the 
elms, 

"  You  are  getting  nearly  home  now.  Sheila,"  he  said, 
"and  you  will  be  able  to  come  and  walk  in  these  avenues 
whenever  you  please." 

Was  this,  then,  her  home?  this  section  of  a  barrack  row 
of  dwellings,  all  alike  in  steps,  pillars,  doors  and  windows? 
When  she  got  inside  the  servant  who  had  opened  the  dcor 
bobbed  a  curtsey  to  her ;  should   she  shake   hands  witt  her 


158  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

and  say,  "And  are  you  ferry  well  ?"  But  at  this  moment 
Lavender  came  running  up  the  steps,  playfully  hurried  her 
into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs,  and  led  her  into  her  own 
drawing-room.  "Well,  darling,  what  do  you  think  of  your 
home,  now  that  you  see  it?" 

Sheila  looked  around  timidly.  It  was  not  a  big  room,  but 
it  was  a  palace  in  height  and  grandeur  and  color  compared 
with  that  little  museum  in  Borva  in  which  Sheila's  piano 
stood.  It  was  all  so  strange  and  beautiful — the  split  pome- 
granates and  quaint  leaves  on  the  upper  part  of  the  walls, 
and  underneath  a  dull  slate-color,  where  the  pictures  hung; 
the  curious  paintings  on  the  frames  of  the  mirrors;  the 
brilliant  curtains,  with  their  stiff  and  formal  patterns.  It 
was  not  very  much  like  a  home  as  yet;  it  was  more  like  a 
picture  that  had  been  carefully  planned  and  executed;  but 
she  knew  how  he  had  thought  of  pleasing  her  in  choosing 
these  things,  and  without  saying  a  word  she  took  his  hand 
and  kissed  it.  And  then  she  went  to  one  of  the  three  tall 
French  windows  and  looked  out  on  the  square.  There,  be- 
tween the  trees,  was  a  space  of  beautiful  soft  green,  and 
some  children  dressed  in  bright  dresses,  and  attended  by  a 
governess  in  sober  black,  had  just  begun  to  play  croquet. 
An  elderly  lady  with  a  small  white  dog  was  walking  along 
one  end  of  the  graveled  paths.  An  old  man  was  pruning 
some  bushes. 

"It  is  very  still  and  quiet  here,"  said  Sheila,  "I  was  afraid 
that  we  should  have  to  live  in  that  terrible  noise  always." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  find  it  dull,  my  darling,''  he  said. 

"Dull,  when  you  are  here?" 

*•  But  I  cannot  always  be  here,  you  know  ?" 

She  looked  up. 

"  You  see,  a  man  is  so  much  in  the  way  if  he  is  dawdling 
about  the  house  all  day  long.  You  would  begin  to  regard 
me  as  a  nuisance.  Sheila,  and  would  be  for  sending  me  out  to 
play  croquet  with  those  young  Carruthers,  merely  that  you 
might  get  the  rooms  dusted.  Besides,  you  know  I  couldn't 
work  here:  I  must  have  a  studio  of  some  sort — in  the  neigh- 
borhood, ol  course.  And  then  you  will  give  me  your  orders 
in  the  morning  as  to  when  I  am  to  come  round  for  luncheon 
or  dinner." 

"  And  you  will  be  alone  all  day  at  your  work?" 

"  Yes." 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 


159 


"  Then  I  will  come  and  sit  with  you,  my  poor  boy,"  she 
said, 

"Much  work  I  should  do  in  that  case!  "  he  said.  "But 
we'll  see.  In  the  meantime  go  up  stairs  and  get  your  things 
off;  that  young  person  below  has  breakfast  ready,  I  dare 
say." 

"  But  you  have  not  shown  me  yet  where  Mr.  Ingram  lives," 
said  Sheila  before  she  went  to  the  door. 

"  Oh,  that  is  miles  away.  You  have  only  seen  a  little  bit 
of  London  yet.  Ingram  lives  about  as  far  away  from  here 
as  the  distance  you  have  just  come,  but  in  another  direction." 

"  It  is  like  a  vi^orld  made  of  houses,"  said  Sheila,  "  and  all 
filled  with  strangers.  But  you  will  take  me  to  see  Mr.  In- 
gram? " 

"  By-and-by,  yes.  But  he  is  sure  to  drop  in  on  you  as 
soon  as  he  fancies  you  are  settled  in  your  new  home." 

And  here,  at  last,  was  ]Mr.  Ingram  come;  and  the  mere 
sound  of  his  voice  seemed  to  carry  her  back  to  Borva,  so 
that  in  talking  to  him  and  waiting  on  him  as  of  old,  she 
would  scarcely  have  been  surprised  if  her  father  had  walked 
in  to  say  that  a  coaster  was  making  for  the  harbor,  or  that 
Duncan  was  going  over  to  Stornoway  and  Sheila  would  have 
to  give  him  commissions.  Her  husband  did  not  take  the 
same  interest  in  the  social  and  political  affairs  of  Borva  that 
Mr.  Ingram  did.  Lavender  had  made  a  pretence  of  assisting 
Sheila  in  her  work  among  the  poor  people,  but  the  effort  was 
a  hopeless  failure.  He  could  not  remember  the  name  of  a 
poor  family  that  wanted  a  new  boat,  and  was  visibly  impa- 
tient when  Sheila  would  sit  down  to  write  out  for  some  aged 
crone  a  letter  to  her  grandson  in  Canada.  Kow,  Ingram,  for 
the  mere  sake  of  occupation,  had  qualified  himself  during 
his  various  visits  to  Lewis,  so  that  he  migiit  have  become  the 
home  minister  of  the  King  of  Borva;  and  Sheila  was  glad 
to  have  one  attentive  listener  as  she  described  all  the  won- 
derful things  that  had  happened  in  the  island  since  the  pre- 
vious Summer. 

But  Ingram  had  got  a  full  and  complete  holiday  on  which 
to  come  up  and  see  Sheila ;  and  he  had  brought  with  him 
the  wild  and  startling  proposal  that  in  order  that  she  should 
take  her  first  plunge  into  the  pleasures  of  civilized  life,  her 
husband  and  herself  should  drive  down  to  Richmond  and 
dine  at  the  Star  and  Garter. 


l60  "A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  '- 

«  What  is  that  ?"  said  Sheila. 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  the  husband,  seriously,  "your 
ignorance  is  something  fearful  to  contemplate.  It  is  quite 
bewildering.  How  can  a  person  who  does  not  know  what 
the  Siar  and  Garter  is,  be  told  what  the  Star  and  Garter 
is?" 

"  But  I  am  willing  to  go  and  see,"  said  Sheila. 

*'  Then  I  must  look  after  getting  a  brougham,"  said  Lav- 
ender, rising. 

"  A  brougham  on  such  a  day  as  this?"  exclaimed  Ingram. 
"Nonsense!  Get  an  open  trap  of  some  sort;  and  Sheila, 
just  to  please  me,  will  put  on  that  very  blue  dress  she  used 
to  wear  in  Borva,  and  the  hat  and  the  white  feather,  if  she 
has  got  them." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  put  on  a  sealskin  cap  and  a 
red  handkerchief  instead  of  a  collar,"  observed  Lavender, 
calmly. 

"  You  may  do  as  you  please.  Sheila  and  I  are  going  to 
dine  at  the  Star  and  Garter." 

**  May  I  put  on  that  blue  dress?"  said  the  girl,  going  up  to 
her  husband. 

*'Yes,  of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Lavender,  meekly, 
going  off  to  order  the  carriage,  and  wondering  by  what  route 
he  could  drive  those  two  maniacs  down  to  Richmond,  so  that 
none  of  his  friends  should  see  them. 

When  he  came  back  again, bringing  with  him  a  landau,which 
could  be  shut  up  for  the  homeward  journey  at  night,  he  had 
to  confess  that  no  costume  seemed  to  suit  Sheila  so  well  as 
the  rough  sailor-dress;  and  he  was  so  pleased  with  her  ap- 
pearance that  he  consented  at  once  to  let  Bras  go  with  them 
in  the  carriage,  on  condition  that  Sheila  should  be  respon- 
sible for  him.  Indeed,  after  the  first  shiver  of  driving  away 
from  the  square  was  over,  he  forgot  that  there  was  mtich  un- 
usual about  the  look  of  his  odd  pleasure-paity.  If  you  had 
told  him  eighteen  months  before,  that  on  a  bright  day  in 
May,  just  as  the  people  were  going  home  fiom  the  Park  for 
luncheon,  he  would  go  for  a  drive  in  a  hired  trap,  with  one 
horse,  his  companions  being  a  man  with  a  brown  wide-awake, 
a  girl,  dressed  as  though  she  were  the  owner  of  a  yacht,  and  an 
immense  deerhound,  and  that  in  this  fashion  he  would  dare 
to  drive  up  to  the  Star  and  Garter  and  order  dinner,  he  would 
have  bet  five  hundred  to  one  that  such  a  thing  would  never 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  l6l 

occur  SO  long  as  he  preserved  his  senses.  But  somehow  he 
did  not  mind  much.  He  was  very  much  at  home  with  those 
two  people  beside  him;  the  day  was  bright  and  fresh;  the 
horse  went  a  good  pace;  and  once  they  were  over  Hammer- 
smith Bridge  and  out  among  fields  and  trees,  the  country 
looked  exceedingly  pretty,  and  the  beauty  of  it  was  mirrored 
in  Sheila's  eyes. 

"  I  can't  quite  make  you  out  in  that  dress,  Sheila,"  he  said 
"  I  am  not  sure  whether  it  is  real  and  business-like  or  a  the- 
atrical costume.  I  have  seen  girls  on  Ryde  Pier  with  some- 
thing of  the  same  sort  on,  only  a  good  deal  more  pronounced, 
you  know,  and  they  looked  like  sham  yachtsmen  ;  and  I 
have  seen  stewardesses  wearing  that  color  and  texture  of 
cloth—" 

"But  why  not  have  it  as  it  is,"  said  Ingram — "a  solitary 
costume  produced  by  certain  conditions  of  climate  and 
duties,  acting  in  conjunction  with  a  natural  taste  for  harmo- 
nious coloring  and  simple  form  ?  That  dress,  1  will  maintain, 
sprang  as  naturally  from  the  salt  sea  as  Aphrodite  did  ;  and 
the  man  who  suspects  artifice  in  it  or  invention,  has  had  his 
mind  perverted  by  the  skepticism  of  modern  society." 

"  Is  my  dress  so  very  wonderful?"  said  Sheila,  with  a  grave 
complaisance.  "I  am  pleased  that  the  Lewis  has  produced 
such  a  fine  thing,  and  perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  teil  you 
its  history.  It  was  my  papa  bought  a  piece  of  blue  serge  in 
Stornoway  ;  it  cost  three  shillings  sixpence  a  yard,  and  a 
dressmaker  in  Stornoway  cut  it  for  me,  and  I  made  it  myself. 
That  is  all  the  history  of  the  wonderful  dress." 

Suddenly  Sheila  seized  her  husband's  arm.  They  had  got 
down  to  the  river  by  Mortlake;  and  there,  on  the  broad 
bosom  of  the  stream,  a  long  and  slender  boat  was  shooting 
by,  pulled  by  four  oarsmen  clad  in  white  flannel. 

"  How  can  they  go  out  in  such  a  boat  ?"  said  Sheila,  with 
great  alarm  visible  in  her  eyes.  "  It  is  scarcely  a  boat  at  all; 
and  if  they  touch  a  rock  or  the  wind  catches  them — " 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Sheila,"  said  her  husband.  "  They 
are  quite  safe.  There  are  no  rocks  in  our  rivers,  and  the 
wind  does  not  give  us  squalls  here  like  those  on  Loch  Roag. 
You  will  see  hundreds  of  those  boats  by  and  by,  and  per- 
haps you  yourself  will  go  out  in  one." 

"Oh,  never,  never  !"  she  said,  almost  with  a  shudder. 

**  Why,  if  the  people  here  heard  you  they  would  not  know 


l52  A     PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

how  brave  a  sailor  you  are.  You  are  not  afraid  to  go  out  at 
night  by  yourself  on  the  sea,  and  you  won't  go  on  a  smooth 
inland  river — " 

"  But  those  boats  ;  if  you  touch  them  they  must  go  over. 
She  seemed  glad  to  get  away  from  the  river.  She  could 
not  be  persuaded  of  the  safety  of  the  slender  craft  of  the 
Thames;  and  indeed  for  some  time  after  seemed  so  strangely 
depressed  that  Lavender  begged  and  prayed  of  her  to  tell 
him  what  was  the  matler.  It  was  simple  enough.  She  had 
heard  him  speak  of  his  boating  adventures.  Was  it  m  such 
boats  as  that  she  had  just  seen  ?  and  might  he  not  be  some 
day  going  out  in  one  of  them,  and  an  accident— the  breakmg 
of  an  oar,  a  gust  of  wind — 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  reassure  her  by  a  solemn 
promise  that  in  no  circumstances  whatever  would  he,  Laven- 
der, go  into  a  boat  without  her  express  permission,  v^rhere- 
upo'n  Sheila  was  as  grateful  to  him  as  though  he  had  dowered 
her  with  a  kingdom. 

This  was  not  the  Richmond  Hill  of  her  fancy— this  spacious 
height,  with  its  great  mansions,  its  magnificent  elms,  and  its 
view  of  all  the  Westward  and  wo.  ded  country,  with  the  blue- 
white  streak  of  the  river  winding  through  the  green  foliage. 
Where  was  the  farm?  The  famous  Lass  of  Richmond  Hill 
must  have  lived  on  a  farm,  but  here  surely  were  the  houses  of 
great  lords  and  nobles,  which  had  apparently  been  there  for 
years  and  vears.  And  was  this  really  a  hotel  that  they  stopped 
at— this  great  building  that  she  could  only  compare  to  Storno- 

way  Castle?  ■,       ■, 

"Now,  Sheila,"  said  Lavender,  after  they  had  ordered 
dinner  and  gone  out,  "  mind  you  keep  a  tight  hold  on  that 
leash,  for  Bras  will  see  strange  things  in  the  Park." 

*at  is  I  who  will  see  strange  things,"  she  said;  and  the 
prophecy  was  amply  fulfilled.  For  as  they  went  along  the 
broad  path,  and  came  better  into  view  of  the  splendid  undu- 
lation of  woodland  and  pasture  and  fern,  when  on  the  one 
hand  they  saw  the  Thames,  far  below  them,  flowing  through 
the  green  and  spacious  valley,  and  on  the  other  hand  caught 
<;ome  dusky  glimpse  of  the  far  white  houses  of  London,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  got  into  a  new  world,  and  that 
this  world  was  far  more  beautiful  than  the  great  city  she 
had  left.  She  did  not  care  so  much  for  the  famous  view  from 
the  hill.  She  had  cast  one  quick  look  to  the  horizon,  with  one 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  163 

throb  of  expectation  that  the  sea  might  be  there.  There  was 
no  sea  there — only  the  faint  blue  of  long  lines  of  country 
apparently  without  limit.  Moreover,  over  the  Western  land- 
scape a  faint  haze  prevailed,  that  increased  in  the  distance  and 
softened  down  the  more  distant  woods  into  a  sober  gray. 
That  great  extent  of  wooded  plain,  lying  sleepily  in  its  pale 
mists,  was  not  so  cheerful  as  the  scene  around  her,  where  the 
sunlight  was  sharp  and  rlear,  the  air  fresh,  the  trees  flooded 
with  a  pure  and  bright  color. 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  cheerful  and  beautiful  world,  and  she 
was  full  of  curiosity  to  know  all  about  it  and  its  str^ge  fea- 
tures. What  was  the  name  of  this  tree?  and  how  did  it  dif- 
fer from  that  ?  Were  not  these  rabbits  over  by  the  fence? 
and  did  rabbits  live  in  the  midst  of  trees  and  bushes?  What 
sort  of  wood  was  the  fence  made  of?  and  was  it  not  terribly 
expensive  to  have  such  a  protection?  Could  not  he  tell  the 
cost  of  a  wooden  fence?  Why  did  they  not  use  wire  netting? 
Was  not  that  a  loch  away  down  there?  and  what  was  its  name? 
A  loch  without  a  name!  Did  the  salmon  come  up  to  it?  and 
did  any  sea  birds  ever  come  inland  and  build  their  nests  on 
its  margin? 

"  Oh,  Bras,  you  must  come  and  look  at  the  loch.  It  is  a 
long  time  ^ince  you  will  see  a  loch." 

And  away  she  went  through  the  thick  breckan,  holding 
on  to  the  swaying  leash  that  held  the  galloping  grayhound, 
and  running  swiftly  as  though  she  had  been  making  down 
for  the  shore  to  get  out  the  Maighdean-mhara. 

"  Sheila,"  called  her  husband,  "  don't  be  foolish  !" 

"  Sheila,"  called  Ingram,   "  have  pity  on  an  old  man  !" 

Suddenly  she  stopped.  A  brace  of  partridges  had  sprung 
up  at  some  distance,  and,  with  a  wild  whirr  of  their  wings, 
were  now  directing  their  low  and  rapid  flight  toward  the 
bottom  of  the^valley, 

"  What  birds  are  those?"  she  said  peremptorily. 

She  took  no  notice  of  the  fact  that  her  companions  were 
pretty  nearly  too  blown  to  speak.  1  here  was  a  brisk  life 
and  color  in  her  face,  and  all  her  attention  was  absorbed  in 
watching  the  flight  of  the  birds.  Lavender  fancied  he  saw 
in  the  fixed  and  keen  look  something  of  old  Mackenzie's 
gray  eye;  it  was  the  first  trace  of  a  likeness  to  her  father  he 
had  seen. 

"  You  bad  girl !"  he  said,  "  they  are  partridges." 


164  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  this  reproach,  for  what  were  those 
other  things  over  there  underneath  the  trees?  Bras  had 
pricked  up  his  ears,  and  there  was  a  strange  excitement  in 
his  look  and  in  his  trembling  frame. 

"  Deer  !"  she  cried,  with  her  eyes  as  fixed  as  were  those  of 
the  dog  beside  her. 

"Well."  said  the  husband  calmly;  "what  although  they 
are  deer  ?" 

•''But  Bras — "  she  said;  and  with  that  she  caught  the 
leash  with  both  her  hands. 

"  Bras  won't  mind  them  if  you  keep  him  quiet.  I  suppose 
you  can  manage  him  better  than  I  can.  I  wish  we  had 
brought  a  whip.'' 

"  1  would  rather  let  him  kill  every  deer  in  the  Park  than 
touch  him  with  a  whip,"  said  Sheila  proudly. 

"  You  fearful  creature,  you  don't  know  what  you  say. 
That  is  high  treason.  If  George  Ranger  heard  you  he  would 
have  you  hanged  in  front  of  the  Star  and  Garter." 

'*  Who  is  George  Ranger?"  said  Sheila  with  an  air,  as  if 
she  had  said,  "  Do  you  know  that  I  am  the  daughter  of  the 
King  of  Borva,  and  whoever  touches  me  will  have  to  answer 
to  my  papa,  who  is  not  afraid  of  any  George  Ranger  ?" 

"  He  is  a  great  lord  who  hangs  all  persons  who  disturb  the 
deer  in  this  Park." 

"  But  why  do  they  not  go  away  ?"  said  Sheila,  impatiently. 
*'  I  have  never  seen  any  deer  so  stupid.  It  is  their  own  fault 
if  they  are  disturbed;  why  do  they  remain  so  near  to  people 
and  to  houses?" 

"My  dear  child,  if  Bras  wasn't  here  you  would  probably 
find  some  of  those  deer  coming  up  to  see  if  you  had  any  bits 
of  sugar  or  pieces  of  bread  about  your  pockets." 

"  Then  they  are  like  sheep — they  are  not  like  deer,"  she 
said,  with  some  contempt.  "If  I  could  only  iell  Bras  that  it 
is  sheep  he  will  be  looking  at,  he  would  not  look  any  more. 
And  so  small  they  are !  They  are  as  small  as  the  roe,  but 
they  have  horns  as  big  as  many  of  the  red  deer.  Do  people 
eat  them  ?" 

*'  I  suppose  so." 

"And  what  will  they  cost?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  Are  they  as  good  as  the  roe  or  the  big  deer  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that,  either.     I  don't  think  I  ever  ate  fallow- 


A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE.  1 65 

deer.  But  you  know  they  are  not  kept  here  for  taht  purpose. 
A  great  many  gentlemen  in  this  country  keep  a  lot  of  them 
in  their  parks  merely  to  look  pretty.  They  cost  a  great  deal 
more  than  they  produce." 

"  They  must  eat  up  a  great  deal  of  fine  grass,"  said  Sheila, 
almost  sorrowfully.  "  It  is  a  beautiful  ground  for  sheep — no 
rushes,  no  peat-moss,  only  fine,  good  grass  and  dry  land.  I 
should  like  my  papa  to  see  all  this  beautiful  ground." 

"  I  fancy  he  has  seen  it.'' 

**  Was  my  papa  here  ?" 

"  I  think  he  said  so  '' 

*'  And  did  he  see  those  deer  ?" 

"  Doubtless," 

"  He  never  toid  me  of  them." 

By  this  time  t'.iey  had  pretty  nearly  got  down  to  the  little 
lake,  and  Bras  had  been  alternately  coaxed  and  threatened 
into  a  quiescent  mood.  Sheila  evidently  expected  to  hear  a 
flapping  of  sea  fowls'  wings  when  they  got  near  the  margin, 
and  looked  all  around  for  the  first  sudden  dart  from  the 
banks.  But  a  dead  silence  prevailed,  and  as  there  were 
neither  fish  nor  birds  to  watch,  she  went  along  to  a  wooden 
bench  and  sat  down  there,  one  of  her  companions  on  each 
hand.  It  was  a  pretty  scene  that  lay  before  her — the  small 
stretch  of  water  ruffled  with  the  wind,  but  showing  a  dash  of 
blue  sky  here  and  there,  the  trees  in  the  inclosure  beyond 
clad  in  their  summer  foliage,  the  smooth  green  sward  shining 
in  the  afternoon  sunlight.  Here,  at  least,  was  absolute  quiet 
after  the  roar  of  London  ;  and  it  was  somewhat  wistfully  that 
she  asked  her  husband  how  far  this  place  was  from  her  home, 
and  whether,  when  he  was  at  work,  she  could  not  come  down 
here  by  herself. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  never  dreaming  that  she  would  think 
of  doing  such  a  thing. 

By-and-by  they  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  while  they 
sat  at  dinner  a  great  fire  of  sunset  spread  over  the  West,  and 
the  far  woods  became  of  a  rich  purple,  streaked  here  and 
there  with  lines  of  a  pale  white  mist.  The  river  caught  the 
glow  of  the  crimson  clouds  above,  and  shone  duskily  red 
amid  the  dark  green  of  the  trees.  Deeper  and  deeper  grew 
the  color  of  the  sun  as  it  sank  to  the  horizon,  until  it  disap- 
peared behind  one  low  bar  of  purple  cloud,  and  the  wild 
glow  in  the  West  slowly  faded  away,  the  river  became  pallid 


^66  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

and  indistinct,  the  white  mists  over  the  distant  woods  seemed 
to  grow  denser,  and  then,  as  here  and  there  a  lamp  was  lit  far 
down  in  the  valley,  one  or  two  pale  stars  appeared  in  the  sky 
overhead,  and  the  night  came  on  apace. 

"It  is  so  strange,"  Sheila  said,  "to  find  the  darkness 
comin,^  on  and  not  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  waves.  I  wonder 
if  it  is  a  fine  night  at  Borva  !'' 

Her  husband  went  over  to  her  and  led  her  back  to  the 
table,  where  the  candles,  shining  over  the  white  cloth  and 
the  colored  glasses,  offered  a  more  cheerful  picture  than  the 
deepening  landscape  outside.  They  were  in  a  private  room, 
so  that  when  dinner  was  over.  Sheila  was  allowed  to  amuse 
herself  with  the  fruit,  while  her  two  companions  lit  their 
cigars.  Where  was  the  quamt  old  piano  now,  and  the  glass 
of  hot  whisky  and  water,  and  the  "Lament  of  Monaltrie" 
or  "  Love  in  thine  eyes  for  ever  plays?"  It  seemed  but  for 
the  greatness  of  the  room,  to  be  a  repetition  of  one  of  those 
evenings  at  Borva,  that  now  belonged  to  a  far  off  past.  Here 
was  Sheila,  not  minding  the  smoke,  listening  to  Ingram  as  of 
old,  and  sometimes  saying  something  in  that  sweetly  inflected 
speech  of  hers;  here  was  Ingram,  talking,  as  it  were,  out  of 
a  brown  study,  and  morosely  objecting  to  pretty  nearly  every- 
thing Lavender  said,  but  always  ready  to  prove  Sheila  right; 
and  Lavender  himself,  as  unlike  a  married  man  as  ever, 
talking  impatiently,  impetuously  and  wildly,  except  at  such 
times  as  he  said  something  to  his  young  wife,  and  then  some 
brief  smile  and  look,  or  some  pat  on  the  hand  said  more 
than  words.  But  where.  Sheila  may  have  thought,  was  the 
one  wanting  to  complete  the  group  ?  Has  he  gone  down  to 
Borvapo^t  to  see  about  the  cargoes  of  fith  to  be  sent  off  in 
the  morning?  Perhaps  he  is  talking  to  Duncan  outside 
about  the  cleaning  of  the  guns,  or  making  up  cartridges  in 
the  kitchen.  When  Sheila's  attention  wandered  away  from 
the  talk  of  her  companions  she  could  not  help  listening  for 
the  sound  of  the  waves;  and  as  there  was  no  such  message 
coming  to  her  from  the  great  wooded  plain  without,  her 
fancy  took  her  away  across  that  mighty  country  she  had 
traveled  through,  and  carried  her  up  to  the  island  of  Loch 
Roag,  until  she  almost  fancied  she  could  smell  the  peat-smoke 
in  the  night  air,  and  listen  to  the  sea,  and  hear  her  father 
pacing  up  and  down  the  gravel  outside  the  house,  perhaps 
thinking  of  her  as  she  was  thinking  of  him. 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  167 

This  little  excursion  to  Richmond  was  long  remembered  by 
those  three.  It  was  the  last  of  their  meetings  before  Sheila 
was  ushered  into  the  big  world  to  busy  herself  with  new  oc- 
cupations and  cares.  It  was  a  pleasant  little  journey  through- 
out, for  as  they  got  into  the  landau  te  drive  back  to  town, 
the  moon  was  shining  high  up  in  the  Southern  heavens,  and 
the  air  was  mild  and  fresh,  so  that  they  had  the  carriage 
opened,  and  Sheila,  well  wrapped  up,  lay  and  looked  around 
her  with  a  strange  wonder  and  joy  as  they  drove  underneath 
the  shadow^  of  the  trees  and  out  again  into  the  clear  sheen  of 
the  night.  They  saw  the  river,  too,  flowing  smoothly  and 
palely  down  between  its  dark  banks;  and  somehow  here  the 
silence  checked  them,  and  they  hummed  no  more  those  duets 
they  used  to  sing  up  at  Borva.  Of  what  were  they  thinking, 
then,  as  they  drove  through  the  clear  night  along  the  lonely 
road  ?  Lavender,  at  least,  was  rejoicing  at  his  great  good 
fortune  that  he  had  secured  for  ever  to  himself  the  true- 
hearted  girl  who  now  sat  opposite  to  him,  with  the  moonlight 
touching  her  face  and  hair;  and  he  was  laughing  to  himself 
at  the  notion  that  he  did  not  properly  appreciate  her,  or  un- 
derstand her,  or  perceive  her  real  character.  If  not  he,  who 
then?  Had  he  not  watched  every  turn  of  her  disposition, 
every  expression  of  her  wishes,  every  grace  of  her  manner 
and  look  of  her  eyes  ?  and  was  he  not  overjoyed  to  find  that 
the  more  he  knew  of  her  the  more  he  loved  her  ? 

Marriage  had  increased  rather  than  diminished  the  mys- 
tery and  wonder  he  had  woven  about  her.  He  was  more 
her  lover  now  than  he  had  been  before  his  marriage.  Who 
could  see  in  her  eyes  what  he  saw?  Elderly  folks  can  look 
at  a  girl's  eyes  and  see  that  they  are  brown  or  blue  or  green, 
as  the  case  may  be;  but  the  lover  looks  at  them  and  sees  in 
them  the  magic  mirror  of  a  hundred  possible  worlds.  How 
can  he  fathom  the  sea  of  dreams  that  lies  there,  or  tell  what 
strange  fancies  or  reminiscences  may  be  involved  in  an  ab- 
sent look?  Is  she  thinking  of  starlit  nights  on  some  distant 
lake,  or  of  the  old  by-gone  days  on  the  hills?  All  her  former 
life  is  told  there,  and  yet  but  half  told,  and  he  longs  to  be- 
come possessed  of  all  the  beautiful  past  that  she  has  seen. 
Here  is  a  constant  mystery  to  him,  and  there  is  a  singular  and 
wistful  attraction  for  him  in  those  still  deeps  where  the 
thoughts  and  dreams  of  an  innocent  soul  lie  but  half  re- 
vealed.   He  does  not  see  those  things  in  the  eyes  of  women 


l68  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

he  is  not  in  love  with;  but  when,  in  after  years,  he  is  carelessly 
regarding  this  or  the  other  woman,  some  chance  look,  some 
brief  and  sudden  turn  of  expression,  will  recall  to  him,  as 
with  a  stroke  of  lightning,  all  the  old  wonder-time,  and  his 
heart  will  go  nigh  to  breaking  to  think  that  he  has  grown 
old,  and  that  he  has  forgotten  so  much,  and  that  the  fair, 
wild  days  of  romance  and  longing  are  passed  away  forever. 

"  Ingram  thinks  I  don't  understand  you  yet,  Sheila,"  he 
said  to  her,  after  they  had  got  home  and  their  friends  had 
gone. 

Sheila  only  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  don't  understand  myself 
sometimes." 

"Eh?  What?"  he  cried.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I 
have  married  a  conundrum  ?  If  I  have  I  don't  mean  to  give 
you  up,  anyway,  so  you  may  go  and  get  a  biscuit  and  a  drop 
of  the  whisky  we  brought  from  the  North  with  us.'' 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE      FIRST      PLUNGE. 

Frank  Lavender  was  a  good  deal  more  concerned  than 
he  chose  to  show  about  the  effect  that  Sheila  was  likely  to 
produce  on  his  aunt;  and  when  at  length  the  day  arrived  on 
which  the  young  folks  were  to  go  down  to  Kensington  Gore, 
he  had  inwardly  to  confess  that  Sheila  seemed  a  great  deal 
less  perturbed  than  himself.  Her  perfect  calmness  and  self- 
possession  surprised  him.  The  manner  in  which  she  had 
dressed  herself,  with  certain  modifications  which  he  could 
noc  help  approving,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  time, 
seemed  to  him  a  miracle  of  dexterity;  and  how  had  she  ac- 
quired the  art  of  looking  at  ease  in  this  atcire,  which  was 
much  more  cumbrous  than  she   had  usually  worn  in  Borva  ? 

If  Lavender  had  but  known  the  truth,  he  would  have  be- 
gun to  believe  something  of  what  Ingram  had  vaguely  hinted. 
This  poor  girl  was  looking  toward  her  visit  to  Kensington 
Gore  as  the  most  painful  trial  of  her  life.  While  she  was 
outwardly  calm  and  firm,  and  even  cheerful,  her  heart  sank 
within  her  as  she  thought  of  the  dreaded  interview.  Those 
garments  which  she  wore  with  such  an  appearance  of  ease 
and  comfort,  had  been  the  result  of  many  an  hour  of  anx- 
iety, for  how  was  she  to  tell,  from   her   husband's  raillery, 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  IO9 

what  colors  the  terrible  old  lady  in  Kensington  would  prob- 
ably like  ?  He  did  not  know  that  every  word  he  said  in  joke 
about  his  aunt's  temper,  her  peevish  ways,  the  awful  conse- 
quences of  offending  her,  and  so  forth,  were  like  so  many 
needles  stuck  into  the  girl's  heart,  until  she  was  ready  to  cry 
out  to  be  released  from  this  fearful  ordeal.  Moreover,  as  the 
day  came  near  what  he  could  not  see  in  her  she  saw  in  him. 
Was  she  likely  to  be  reassured  when  she  perceived  that  her 
husband,  in  spite  of  all  his  fun,  was  really  anxious,  and  when 
she  knew  that  some  blunder  on  her  part  might  ruin  him?  In 
fact,  if  he  had  suspected  for  a  moment  that  she  was  really 
trembling  to  think  of  what  might  happen,  he  might  have 
made  some  effort  to  give  her  courage.  But  apparently  Sheila 
was  as  cool  and  collected  as  if  he  had  been  going  to  see  John 
the  Piper.  He  believed  she  could  have  gone  to  be  presented 
to  the  Queen  without  a  single  tremor  of  heart. 

Still,  he  was  a  man,  and  therefore  bound  to  as:ume  an  air 
of  patronage.  *'  She  won't  eat  you,  really,"  he  said  to  Sheila, 
as  they  were  driving  in  a  hansom  down  Kensington  Palace 
Gardens.  "  All  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  believe  in  her  theories 
of  food.  She  won't  make  you  a  martyr  to  them.  She  mea- 
sures every  half  ounce  of  what  she  eats,  but  she  won't  starve 
you;  and  I  am  glad  to  think,  Sheila,  that  you  have  brought  a 
remarkably  good  and  sensible  appetite  with  you  from  the 
Lewis.  Oh,  by  the  way,  take  care  you  say  nothing  against 
Marcus  Aurelius." 

"  I  don't  know  who  he  was,  dear,"  observed  Sheila,  meek- 

ly. 

**He  was  a  Roman  emperor  and  a  philosopher.  I  suppose 
it  was  because  he  was  an  emperor  that  he  found  it  easy  to  be 
a  philosopher.  However,  my  aunt  is  nuts  on  Marcus  Aure- 
lius: I  beg  yonr  p-!rd  m,  you  don't  know  the  phrase.  My 
aunt  makes  M  ircus  Aurelius  her  Bible,  and  she  is  sure  to 
read  you  bits  from  him,  which  you  must  believe,  you  know." 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Sheila,  doubtfully,  "  but  if—" 

"Oh,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  religion.  I  don't  think 
anybody  knows  what  Marcus  Aurelius  means,  so  you  may  as 
well  believe  it.  Ingram  swears  by  him,  but  he  is  always  full 
of  odd  crotchets." 

**  Does  Mr.  Ingram  believe  in  Marcus  Aurelius?"  said 
Sheila,  with  some  accession  of  interest. 

"  Why,  he  gave  my  aunt  the  book  years   ago — confound 


270  A    PRINCESS    CF    THULE, 

him! — and  ever  since  she  has  been  a  nuisance  to  her  friends. 
For  my  own  part,  you  know,  I  don't  believe  that  Marcus 
Aurelius  was  quite  sucla  an  ass  as  Plato.  He  talks  the  same 
sort  of  perpetual  commonplaces,  but  it  isn't  about  the  true, 
the  good  and  the  beautiful.  Would  you  like  me  to  repeat 
one  of  the  dialogues  of  Plato — about  the  immorality  of 
Mr.  Cole  and  the  moral  effect  of  the  South  Kensington  Mu- 
seum ?" 

"No,  dear,  I  shouldn't,^'  said  Sheila. 

"  You  deprive  yourself  of  a  treat,  but  never  mind.  Here 
we  are  at  my  aunt's  house." 

Sheila  timidly  glanced  at  the  place,  wnile  her  husband  paid 
the  cabman,  It  was  a  tall,  narrow,  dingy-looking  house  of 
dark  brick,  with  some  black-green  ivy  at  the  foot  of  the 
walls,  and  with  crimson  curtains  formally  arranged  in  every 
one  of  the  windows.  If  Mrs.  Lavender  was  a  rich  old  lady, 
why  did  she  live  in  such  a  gloomy  building?  Sheila  had 
seen  beautiful  white  houses  in  all  parts  of  London;  her  own 
house,  for  example,  was  ever  so  much  more  cheerful  than  this 
one,  and  yet  she  had  heard  wi.h  awe  of  the  value  of  this  de- 
pressing little  mansion  in  Kensington  Gore. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  man,  who  showed  them  up- 
stairs and  announced  their  names.  Sheila's  heart  beat  quick- 
ly. She  entered  the  drawing-room  with  a  sort  of  mist  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  found  herself  going  forward  to  a  lady  who 
sat  at  the  farther  end.  She  had  a  strangely  vivid  impression, 
amid  all  her  alarm,  that  this  old  lady  looked  like  the  withered 
kernel  of  a  nut.  Or,  was  she  not  like  a  cockatoo  ?  It  was 
through  no  anticipation  of  dislike  to  Mrs.  Lavender  that  the 
imagination  of  the  girl  got  hold  of  that  notion.  But  the  old 
lady  held  her  head  like  a  cockatoo.  What  was  there,  more- 
over, about  the  decorations  of  her  head  that  reminded  one 
of  a  cockatoo  when  it  puts  up  its  crest  and  causes  its  feathers 
to  look  like  sticks  of  celery. 

*'  Aunt  Caroline,  this  is  my  wife.'' 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  giving 
her  hand,  but  not  rising.  "  Sit  down.  When  you  are  a  little 
nervous  you  ought  to  sit  down.  Frank,  give  me  that  am- 
monia from  the  mantelpiece." 

It  was  a  small  glass  phial,  and  labeled  "  Poison  "  She 
smelt  the  stopper,  and  then  handed  it  to  Sheila,  telling  her  to 
do  the  same. 


A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  I71 

"  Why  did  your  maid  do  your  hair  in  such  a  way?"  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"I  haven't  got  a  maid,"  said  Sheila,  "and  I  always  do  my 
hair  so." 

"  Don't  be  offended.  I  like  it.  But  you  must  not  make  a 
fool  of  yourself.  Your  hair  is  too  much  that  of  a  country 
beauty  going  to  a  ball.  Paterson  will  show  you  how  to  do 
your  hair." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  aunt,"  cried  Lavender,  with  a  fine  show  of  care- 
lessness, "  you  mustn't  go  and  spoil  her  hair.  I  think  it  is 
very  pretty  as  it  is,  and  that  woman  of  yours  would  simply  go 
and  make  a  mop  of  it.  You'd  think  the  girls  nowadays 
dressed  their  hair  by  shoving  their  head  into  a  furze  bush 
and  giving  it  a  couple  of  turns." 

She  paid  no  heed  to  him,  but  turned  to  Sheila  and  said, 
"You  are  an  only  child  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  leave  your  father?" 

The  question  was  rather  a  cruel  one,  and  it  stung  Sheila 
into  answering  bravely.     "  Because  my  husband  wished  me." 

"Oh!  You  think  your  husband  is  to  be  the  first  law  of 
your  life?" 

''Yes,  I  do." 

"  Even  when  he  is  only  silly  Frank  Lavender?" 

Sheila  rose.  There  was  a  quivering  of  her  lips,  but  no 
weakness  in  the  proud,  indignant  lok  of  her  eyes: 

"What  you  may  say  of  me,  thr't  I  do  not  care.  But  I  will 
not  remain  to  hear  my  husband  insulted," 

"Sheila,"'  said  Lavender,  vexed  and  anxious,  and  yet 
pleased  at  the  same  time  by  the  c  urage  of  the  girl — "  Sheila, 
it  is  only  a  joke.  You  must  not  niiud;  it  is  only  a  bit  of 
fun." 

"  I  do  not  understand  such  jests,"  she  said, calmly. 

"  Sit  down,  like  a  good  girl,"  said  the  old  lady  with  an  air 
of  absolute  indifference.  "I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you. 
Sit  down  and  be  quiet.  You  will  destroy  your  nervous  sys- 
tem if  you  give  way  to  such  impulses.  I  think  you  are  healthy. 
I  like  the  look  of  you,  but  you  will  never  reach  a  good  age, 
as  I  hope  to  do,  except  by  moderating  your  passions.  That 
is  well;  now  take  the  ammonia  again  and  give  it  to  me. 
You  don't  wish  to  die  young,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  dying,"  said  Sheila. 


172  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

"  Ring  the  bell,  Frank." 

He  did  so,  and  a  tall,  spare,  grave-faced  woman  appeared. 

"  Paterson,  you  must  put  luncheon  on  at  two-ten.  I  or- 
dered it  at  one-fifty,  did  I  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  m'm." 

"  See  that  it  is  served  at  two-ten,  and  take  this  young  lady 
and  get  her  hair  properly  done.  You  understand  ?  My 
nephew  and  I  will  wait  luncheon  for  her.'' 

"Yes,  m'm." 

Sheila  rose  with  a  great  swelling  in  her  throat.  All  her 
courage  had  ebljed  away.  She  had  reflected  how  pained  her 
husband  would  be  if  she  did  not  please  this  old  lady;  and 
she  was  now  prepared  to  do  anythu  g  she  was  tf  Id,  10  leceive 
meekly  any  remarks  that  might  be  made  to  her,  to  be  quite 
obedient  and  gentle  and  submissive.  But  what  was  th's  tall 
and  terrible  woman  going  to  do  to  her?  Did  she  really 
mean  to  cut  away  those  great  masses  of  hair  to  which  Mrs. 
Lavender  had  objected  !  Sheila:  would  have  let  her  hair  be 
cut  willingly  for  her  husband's  sake;  but  as  she  went  to  the 
door  some  wild  and  despairing  notions  came  into  her  head  of 
what  her  husband  might  think  of  her  when  once  she  was 
shorn  of  this  beautiful  personal  feature.  Would  he  look  at 
her  with  surprise — perhaps  even  with  disappointment? 

"  Mind  you  don't  keep  luncheon  late,"  he  said  to  her  as 
she  passed  him. 

She  but  indistinctly  heard  him,  so  great  was  the  trembling 
within  her.  Her  father  would  scarcely  know  his  altered 
Sheila  when  she  went  back  to  Borva;  and  what  would  Mairi 
say — Mairi  who  had  many  p  time  helped  her  to  ai  range  those 
long  tresses,  and  who  was  as  proud  of  them  as  if  they  were 
ner  own  ?  She  followed  Mrs.  Lavender's  tall  maid  up-stairs. 
She  entered  a  small  dressing-room  and  glanced  nervously 
around.  Then  she  suddenly  turned,  looked  for  a  moment  at 
the  woman,  and  said,  with  tears  rushing  up  into  her  eyes  : 
"Does  Mrs.  Lavender  wish  me  to  cut  my  hair?" 

The  woman  regarded  her  with  astonishment.  "Cut,  miss? 
— ma'am.  I  beg  your  pardon.  No,  ma'am,  not  at  all.  I 
suppose  it  is  only  some  difference  in  the  arrangement,  ma'am. 
Mrs.  Lavender  is  very  particular  about  the  har,  and  she  has 
asked  me  to  show  several  ladies  how  to  dress  the  hair  in  the 
way  she  likes.  But  perhaps  you  would  prefer  letting  it  remain 
as  it  is,  ma'am  ?" 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  1 73 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  said  Sheila.  "I  should  like  to  have 
it  just  as  Mrs.  Lavender  wishes — in  every  way  just  as  she 
wishes.     Only  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  cut  any?" 

"Oh,  no,  miss — ma'am  ;  and  it  would  be  a  great  pity,  if  I 
may  say  so,  to  cut  ;'<?//r  hair.'' 

Sheila  was  pleased  to  hear  that.  Here  was  a  woman  who 
had  a  large  experience  in  such  matters  among  those  very 
ladies  of  her  husband's  social  circle  whom  she  had  been  a 
little  afraid  to  meet  Mrs.  Paterson  seemed  to  admire  her 
hair  as  much  as  the  simple  Mairi  had  done  ;  and  Sheila 
soon  began  to  have  less  fear  of  the  terrible  tiring-woman,  who 
forthwith  proceeded  with  her  task. 

The  young  wife  went  down  stairs  with  a  tower  upon  her 
head.  She  was  very  uncomfortable.  She  had  seen,  it  is 
true,  the' t  this  method  of  dressing  the  hair  really  t  ecame  her — 
or  rather  would  become  her  in  certain  circumstances  It  was 
grand,  imposing,  statuesque,  but  then  she  did  not  f-^el  statu- 
esque just  at  this  moment.  She  could  have  dressed  herself 
to  suit  this  style  of  hair;  ehe  could  have  worn  it  wiih  confi- 
dence if  she  had  got  it  up  herself;  but  here  she  was  the  vic- 
tim of  an  expeiiment.  She  felt  like  a  school  girl  about,  for 
the  first  time,  to  appear  in  public^  in  a  long  dress,  and  she 
was  terribly  afraid  her  husband  would  laugh  at  her.  If  he 
had  any  such  inclination  he  courteou'-iy  suppressed  it.  He 
said  the  massive  simplicity  of  this  dressing  of  the  hair  suited 
her  admirably.  Mrs.  Lavender  said  that  Paterson  was  an 
invaluable  woman;  and  then  they  went  down  to  the  dining- 
room  on  the  ground  floor,  where  luncheon  had  been  laid. 

The  man  who  had  opened  the  door  waited  on  the  two 
strangers;  the  invaluable  Paterson  acted  as  a  scrt  of  hench- 
woman  to  her  mistress,  standing  by  her  chair  and  supplying 
her  wants.  She  also  had  the  management  of  a  small  pair  of 
silver  scales,  in  which  pretty  nearly  everything  that  Mrs. 
Lavender  took  in  the  way  of  solid  food  was  carefully  and 
accurately  weighed.  The  conversation  was  chiefly  aliment- 
ary, and  Sheila  listened  with  a  growing  wonder  to  the  de- 
scription of  the  devices  by  which  the  ladies  of  Mrs.  Laven- 
der's acquaintances  were  wont  to  cheat  fatigue  or  win  an  ap- 
petite or  preserve  their  color.  When  by  accident  the  girl 
herself  was  appealed  to,  she  had  to  confess  to  an  astonish- 
ing ignorance  of  all  such  resources.  She  knew  nothing  of 
the  I  elaiive  strengths  and   effects   of  wines,  though  she  was 


174  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

frankly  ready  to  make  any  experiment  her  husband  recom- 
mended. She  knewwhat  camphor  was,  but  had  never  heard 
of  bismuth.  On  cross-examination  she  had  to  admit  that 
eau-de-cologne  did  not  seem  to  her  hkely  to  be  a  pleasant 
liquor  before  going  to  a  ball.  Did  she  not  know  the  effect 
on  brown  hair  of  washing  it  in  soda-water  every  night  ? 
She  was  equably  confessing  her  ignorance  on  all  such  points 
whan  she  was  staitled  by  a  sudden  question  from  Mrs.  Laven- 
der.    Did  she  know  what  she  was  doing? 

She  looked  at  her  plate;  there  was  on  it  a  piece  of  cheese 
to  which  she  had  thoughtlessly  helped  herself.  Somebody 
had  called  it  Roquefort — that  was  all  she  knew. 

"You  have  as  much  there,  child,  as  v.'ould  kill  a  plough- 
man ;  and  I  suppose  you  would  not  have  had  the  sense  to 
leave  it." 

"Is  it  poison?"  said  Sheila,  regarding  her  plate  with 
horror. 

"All  cheese  is.     Paterson,  my  scales.'' 

She  had  Sheila's  plate  brought  to  her,  and  the  proper  modi- 
cum of  cheese  cut,  weighed  and  sent  back. 

"  Remember,  whatever  house  you  are  in,  never  to  have 
more  Roquefort  than  that." 

"  It  would  be  simpler  to  do  without,''  said  Sheila. 

"It  would  be  simple  enough  to  do  without  a  great  many 
things,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  severely.  "  But  the  wisdom  of 
living  is  to  enjoy  as  many  different  things  as  possible,  so 
long  as  you  do  so  in  moderation  and  preserve  your  health. 
You  are  young— you  don't  think  of  such  things.  You 
think,  because  you  have  s.  ood  teeth  and  a  clear  complexion, 
you  can  eat  anything.  But  that  won't  last.  A  time  will 
come.  Do  you  not  know  what  the  great  Emperor  Marcus 
Antoninus  says? — '  In  a  little  while  thou  wilt  be  nobody  and 
nowhere,  like  Hadrianus  and  Augustus.'  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sheila. 

She  had  not  enjoyed  her  luncheon  much;  she  would  rather 
have  had  a  ham  sandwich  and  a  glass  of  spring  water  on  the 
side  of  a  Highland  hill  than  this  varied  and  fastidious  re- 
past accompanied  by  a  good  deal  of  physiology;  but  it  was 
too  bad  that,  having  successfully  got  through  it,  she  should 
be  threatened  with  annihilation  immediately  afterward.  It 
was  no  sort  of  consolation  to  her  to  know  that  she  would  be 
in  the  same  plight  with  two  emperors. 


A    PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  1 75 

"Frank,  you  can  go  and  smoke  a  cigar  in  the  conservatory 
if  you  please.  Your  wife  will  come  up-stairs  with  me  an  J 
have  a  talk." 

Sheila  would  much  rather  have  gone  into  the  conservatory 
also,  but  she  obediently  followed  Mrs.  Lavender  up-stairs  and 
into  the  drawing-room.  It  was  rather  a  melancholy  chamber, 
the  curtains  shutting  out  most  of  the  daylight,  and  leaving 
you  in  a  semi-darkness  that  made  the  place  look  big  and 
vague  and  spectral.  The  little,  shrivelled  woman,  with  the 
hard  and  staring  eyes  and  silver-gray  hair,  bade  Sheila  sit 
down  beside  her.  She  herself  sat  by  a  small  table,  on  which 
there  were  a  tiny  pair  of  scales,  a  bottle  of  ammonia,  a  fan, 
and  a  book  bound  in  an  old-fashioned  binding  of  scarlet  mo- 
rocco and  gold.  Sheila  wished  this  old  woman  would  not 
look  at  her  so.  She  wished  there  was  a  window  open  or  a  glint 
of  sunlight  coming  in  somewhere.  But  she  was  glad  that  her 
husband  was  enjoying  himself  in  the  conservatory,  and  that 
for  two  reasons.  One  of  them  was,  that  she  did  not  like  the 
tone  of  his  talk  while  he  and  his  aunt  had  been  conversing 
together  about  the  cosmetics  and  such  matters.  Not  only 
did  he  betray  a  marvelous  acquaintance  with  such  things,  but 
he  seemed  to  take  an  odd  sort  of  pleasure  in  exhibiting  his 
knowledge.  He  talked  about  the  tricks  of  fashionable  women 
in  a  mocking  way  that  Sheila  did  not  qui'e  like;  and  of 
course  she  naturally  threw  the  blame  on  J\lrs.  Lavender.  It 
was  only  when  this  old  lady  exerted  a  godless  influence  over 
him  that  her  good  boy  talked  in  such  a  fashion.  There  was 
nothing  of  that  about  him  in  Lewis,  nor  yet  at  home  in  a  cer- 
tain snug  little  smoking-room  which  these  two  had  come  to 
consider  the  most  comfortable  corner  in  the  house.  Sheila 
began  to  hate  women  who  used  lip-salve,  and  silently  re- 
corded a  vow  that  never,  never,  never  would  she  wear  any- 
body's hair  but  her  own. 

"  Do  you  suff"er  from  headaches  ?"  said  Mrs.  Lavender, 
abruptly. 

"Sometimes,"  said  Sheila. 

"  How  often  ?     What  is  an  average  ?     Two  a  week  ?" 

*'  Oh,  sometimes  I  have  not  a  headache  for  three  or  four 
months  at  a  time." 

"  No  toothache  ?" 

"  No." 

''What  did  your  mother  die  of?" 


176  A     PRINCESS    OF    THUIE, 

"It  was  a  fever,"  said  Sheila,  in  a  low  voice,  "and  she 
caught  it  while  she  was  helping  a  family  that  was  very  bad 
with  the  fever." 

"  Does  your  father  ever  suffer  from  rheumatism  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Sheila.  "  My  papa  is  the  strongest  man  in  the 
Lewis — I  am  sure  of  that." 

"  But  the  strongest  of  us,  you  know,'*  said  Mrs.  Lavender, 
looking  hardly  at  the  girl — "  the  strongest  of  us  will  die  and 
go  into  the  general  order  of  the  universe;  and  it  is  a  gocd 
thing  for  you  that,  as  you  say,  you  are  not  afraid.  Why 
should  you  be  afraid  ?  Listen  to  this  passage."  She  opened 
the  red  book,  and  guided  herself  to  a  certain  page  by  one  of 
a  series  of  colored  ribbons:  "  '  He  who  fears  death  either 
fears  the  loss  of  sensation  or  a  different  kind  of  sensation. 
But  if  thou  shalt  have  no  sensation,  neither  wilt  thou  feel  any 
harm;  and  if  thou  shalt  acquire  another  kind  of  sensation, 
thou  will  be  a  d  fferent  kind  of  living  being,  and  thou  wilt 
not  cease  to  live.'     Do  you  perceive  the  wisdom  of  that?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sheila,  and  her  own  voice  seemed  hollow  and 
strange  to  her  in  this  big  and  dimly-lit  chamber. 

Mrs.  Lavender  turned  over  a  few  more  pages  and  pro- 
ceeded to  read  again;  and  as  she  did  so,  in  a  slow,  unsym- 
pathetic, monotonous  voice,  a  spell  came  over  the  girl,  the 
weight  at  her  heart  grew  more  and  more  intolerable,  and  the 
room  seemed  to  grow  darker  :  "  'Short,  then,  is  the  time 
which  every  man  lives,  and  small  the  nook  of  the  earth 
where  he  lives;  and  short,  too,  the  longest  posthumous  fame, 
and  even  this  only  continued  by  a  succession  of  poor  human 
beings,  who  will  very  soon  die,  and  who  know  not  even 
themselves,  much  less  him  who  died  long  ago.'  You  cannot 
do  better  than  ask  your  husband  to  buy  you  a  copy  of  this 
book  and  give  it  special  study.  It  will  comfort  you  in  afflic- 
tion, and  reconcile  you  to  whatever  may  happen  to  you. 
Listen:  'Soon  will  the  earth  cover  us  all!  then  the  earth,  too, 
will  change,  and  the  things  also  which  result  from  change 
will  continue  to  change  forever,  and  these  again  forever. 
For  if  a  man  reflects  on  the  changes  and  transformations 
which  follow  one  another  like  wave  after  wave,  and  with 
their  rapidity,  he  will  despise  everything  which  is  perishable.' 
Do  you  understand  that?'' 

"  Yes,"  said  Sheila,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  being 
suffocated.     Would  not   the  gray  walls  burst  asunder  and 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  7  77 

show  her  one  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky  before  she  sank  into 
unconsciousness?  The  monotonous  tones  of  this  old  woman's 
voice  sounded  like  the  repetition  of  a  psalm  over  a  coffin. 
It  was  as  if  she  was  already  shut  out  of  life,  and  could  only 
hear,  in  a  vague  way,  the  dismal  words  being  chanted  over 
her  by  the  people  in  the  other  world.  She  rose,  steadied 
herself  for  a  moment  by  placing  her  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
chair,  and  managed  to  say  :  "  Mrs.  Lavender,  forgive  me 
for  one  moment;  I  wish  to  speak  to  my  husband," 

She  went  to  the  door — Mrs.  Lavender  being  too  surprised 
to  follow  her — and  made  her  way  down  stairs.  She  had  seen 
the  conservatory  at  the  end  of  a  certain  passage.  She  reached 
it,  and  then  she  scarcely  knew  any  more,  except  that  her 
husband  caught  her  in  his  arms  as  she  cried:  "Oh,  Frank, 
Frank,  take  me  away  from  this  house!  I  am  afraid;  it  ter- 
rifies me!" 

"  Siieila,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter?  Here,  come  out 
into  the  fresh  air.  By  Jove,  how  pale  you  a<-e\  Will  you 
have  some  water?" 

He  could  not  get  to  understand  thoroughly  what  had  oc- 
curred. What  he  clearly  did  learn  from  Sheila's  disjointed 
and  timid  explanations  was  that  there  had  been  another 
''scene,"  and  he  knew  that  of  all  things  in  the  world  his 
aunt  hated  "scenes"  the  worst.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that 
there  was  little  the  matter  with  Sheila  beyond  considerable 
mental  perturbation,  he  could  not  help  addressing  some  little 
remonstrance  to  her,  and  reminding  her  how  necessary  it  was 
that  she  should  not  offend  the  old  lady  up-stairs. 

"You  should  not  be  so  excitable,  Sheila,"  he  said.  "  You 
take  such  exaggerated  notions  about  things.  I  am  sure  my 
aunt  meant  nothing  unkind.  And  what  did  you  say  when 
you  came  away  ?" 

"I  said  I  wanted  to  see  you.     Are  you  angry  with  me?" 

"  No,  of  course  not.  But  then,  you  see,  it  is  a  little  vex- 
ing just  at  this  moment.  Well,  let  us  go  up-stairs  at  once, 
and  try  to  make  up  some  excuse,  like  a  good  girl.  Say  you 
felt  faint — anything.'' 

"  And  you  will  come  with  me  ?" 

"  Yes.  Now  do  try,  Sheila,  to  make  friends  with  my  aunt. 
She  is  not  such  a  bad  sort  of  creature  as  you  seem  to  think. 
She's  been  very  kind  to  me — she'll  be  very  kind  to  you  when 
she  knows  you  more." 


178  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

Fortunately  no  excuse  was  necessary,  for  Mrs,  Lavender, 
in  Sheila's  absence,  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
girl's  temporary  faintness  was  due  to  that  piece  of  Roquefort. 

"You  see,  you  must  be  careful,"  she  said,  when  they  en- 
tered the  room.  "  You  are  unaccustomed  to  a  great  many 
things  you  will  like  afterward  " 

"And  the  room  is  a  little  close,"  said  Lavender. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  his  aunt,  sharplyj  "look  at  the 
barometer." 

"  I  didn't  mean  for  you  and  me,  Aunt  Caroline,"  he  said, 
"but  for  her.  Sheila  has  been  accustomed  to  live  almost 
wholly  in  the  open  air." 

"  The  open  air  in  moderation  is  an  excellent  thing.  I  go 
out  myfelf  every  afternoon,  wet  or  dry.  And  I  was  going  to 
propose,  Frank,  that  you  should  leave  her  here  with  me 
for  the  afternoon,  and  come  back  and  dine  with  us  at 
seven.  I  am  going  out  at  four-thirty,  and  she  could  go  with 
me." 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you,  Aunt  Caroline,  but  we  have  prom- 
ised to  call  on  some  people  close  by  here  at  four." 

Sheila  looked  up  frightened.  The  statement  was  an  auda- 
cious perversion  of  the  truth.  But  then  Frank  Lavender 
knew  very  well  what  his  aunt  meant  by  going  into  the  open 
air  every  afternoon,  wet  or  dry.  At  one  certain  hour  her 
brougham  was  brought  around,  she  got  into  it  and  had  both 
doors  and  windows  hermetically  sealed,  and  then,  in  a  semi- 
somnolent  state,  she  was  driven  slowly  and  monotonously 
around  the  Park.  How  would  Sheila  fare  if  she  were  shut 
up  in  this  box?  He  told  a  lie  with  great  equanimity,  and 
saved  her. 

Then  Sheila  was  taken  away  to  get  on  her  things,  and  her 
husband  waited,  with  some  little  trepidation,  to  hear  what 
his  aunt  would  say  about  her.     He  had  not  long  to  wait. 

"  She's  got  a  bad  temper,  Frank." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,  Aunt  Caroline,''  he  said,  consider- 
ably startled. 

"  Mark  my  words,  she's  got  a  bad  temper,  and  she  is  not 
nearly  so  soft  as  she  tries  to  make  out.  That  girl  has  a  great 
deal  of  firmness,  Frank." 

"  I  find  her  as  gentle  and  submissive  as  a  girl  could  be — 
a  little  too  gentle,  perhaps,  and  anxious  to  study  the  wishes 
of  other  folks." 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  1 79 

*'  That  is  all  very  well  with  you.  You  are  her  master.  She 
is  not  likely  to  quarrel  with  her  bread  and  butter.  But  you'll 
see  if  she  does  not  hold  her  own  when  she  gets  among  your 
friends." 

"  I  hope  she  will  hold  her  own." 

The  old  lady  only  shook  her  head. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  have  taken  a  prejudice  against 
her,  Aunt  Caroline,"  said  the  young  man,  humbly. 

"  I  take  a  prejudice  !  Don't  let  me  hear  the  word  again, 
Frank.  Ycu  know  I  have  no  prejudices.  If  I  cannot  give 
you  a  reason  for  anything,  1  believe  then  I  cease  to  believe  it." 

"  You  have  not  heard  her  sing,"  he  said,  suddenly  remem- 
bering that  this  means  of  conquering  the  old  lady  had  been 
neglected. 

"I  have  no  doubt  she  has  many  accomplishments,"  said 
Aunt  Caroline,  coldly.  "  In  time,  I  suppose,  she  will  get 
over  that  extraordinary  accent  she  has." 

"  Many  people  like  it." 

'•  I  dare  say  you  do — at  present.  But  you  may  tire  of  it. 
You  married  her  in  a  hurry,  and  you  have  not  got  rid  of 
your  romance  yet.  At  the  same  time,  I  dare  say  she  is  a 
very  good  sort  of  girl,  and  will  not  disgrace  you  if  you  in- 
struct and  manage  her  properly.  But  remember  my  words — 
she  has  a  temper,  and  you  will  find  it  out  if  you  thwart  her." 

How  sweet  and  fresh  the  air  was,  even  in  Kensington, 
when  Sheila,  having  dressed  and  come  down  stairs,  and  after 
having  dutifully  kissed  Mrs.  Lavender  and  bade  her  good- 
bye, went  outside  with  her  husband !  It  was  like  coming 
back  to  the  light  of  day  from  inside  the  imaginary  coffin  in 
which  she  had  fancied  herself  placed.  A  soft  West  wind 
was  blowing  over  the  Park,  and  a  fairly  clear  sunlight 
shining  on  the  May  green  of  the  trees.  And  then  she  hung 
on  her  husband's  arm,  and  she  had  him  to  speak  to  instead 
of  the  terrible  old  woman  who  talked  about  dying. 

And  yet  she  hoped  she  had  not  offended  Mrs.  Lavender, 
for  Frank's  sake.  What  he  thought  about  the  matter  he  pru- 
dently resolved  to  conceal. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  have  greatly  pleased  my  aunt?" 
he  said,  without  the  least  compunction.  He  knew  that  if  he 
breathed  the  least  hint  about  what  had  actually  been  said, 
any  possibly  amity  between  the  two  women  would  be  ren- 
dered impossible  forever. 


l8o  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

**  Have  I,  really?"  said  Sheila,  very  much  astonished,  but 
never  thinking  for  a  moment  of  doubting  anything  said  by 
her  husband. 

"  Oh,  she  likes  you  awfully,"  he  said,  with  an  infinite 
coolness. 

"  I  am  so  glad  !"  said  Sheila,  with  her  face  brightening. 
"  1  was  so  afraid,  dear,  I  had  offended  her.  She  did  not 
look  pleased  with  me." 

By  this  time  they  had  got  into  a  hansom,  and  were  driving 
down  to  the  South  Kensington  Museum.  Lavender  would 
have  preferred  going  into  the  Park,  but  what  if  his  aunt,  in 
driving  by,  were  to  see  them  ?  He  explained  to  Sheila  the 
absolute  necessity  of  his  having  to  tell  that  fib  about  the  four 
o'clock  engagement;  and  when  she  heard  described  the  drive 
in  the  closed  brougham,  which  she  had  escaped,  perhaps  she 
was  not  so  greatly  inclined  as  she  ought  to  have  been  to  pro- 
test against  that  piece  of  wickedness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  likes  you  awfully,"  he  repeated,  "  and  you 
must  get  to  like  her.  Don't  be  frightened  at  her  harsh  way 
of  saying  things  ;  it  is  only  a  mannerism.  She  is  really  a 
kind-hearted  woman,  and  would  do  anything  for  me.  That's 
her  best  feature,  looking  at  her  character  from  my  point  of 
view.'' 

*'  How  often  must  we  go  to  see  her?"  asked  Sheila. 

"  Oh,  not  very  often.  But  she  will  get  up  dinner  parties, 
at  which  you  will  be  introduced  to  batches  of  her  friends. 
And  then  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  put  yourself  under 
her  instructions,  and  take  her  advice  about  your  dress  and 
such  matters,  just  as  you  did  about  your  hair.  That  was 
very  good  of  you." 

'•'  I  am  glad  you  were  pleased  with  me,"  said  Sheila.  "  I 
will  do  what  I  can  to  like  her.  But  she  must  talk  more  re- 
spectfully of  you." 

Lavender  laughed  that  little  matter  off  as  a  joke,  but  it  was 
no  joke  to  Sheila.  She  would  try  to  like  that  old  woman — 
yes;  her  duty  to  her  husband  demanded  that  she  should. 
But  there  are  some  things  that  a  wife — especially  a  girl  who 
has  been  newly  made  a  wife — will  never  forget;  which,  on 
the  contrary,  she  will  remember  with  burning  cheeks  and 
anger  and  indignation. 


A   PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  l8l 


PART  VI. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

TRANSFORMATION. 

Had  Sheila,  then,  Lavender  could  not  help  asking  himself, 
a  bad  temper,  or  any  other  qualities  and  characteristics 
which  were  apparent  to  other  people,  but  not  to  him  ?  Was 
it  possible  that,  after  all,  Ingram  was  right,  and  that  he  had 
yet  to  learn  the  nature  of  the  girl  he  had  married  ?  It  would 
be  unfair  to  say  that  he  suspected  something  wrong  about 
his  wife — that  he  fancied  she  had  managed  to  conceal  some- 
thing— merely  because  Mrs.  Lavender  had  said  that  Sheila 
had  a  bad  temper;  but  here  was  another  person  who  main- 
tained that  when  the  days  of  his  romance  were  over  he  would 
see  the  girl  in  another  light. 

Nay,  as  he  continued  to  ask  himself,  had  not  the  change 
already  begun  ?  He  grew  less  and  less  accustomed  to  see 
in  Sheila  a  beautiful  wild  sea-bird  that  had  fluttered  down  for 
a  time  into  a  strange  home  in  the  South,  He  had  not  quite  for- 
gotten or  abandoned  those  imaginative  scenes  in  which  the 
wonderful  sea-princess  was  to  enter  crowded  drawing-rooms 
and  have  all  the  world  standing  back  to  regard  her  and  ad- 
mire her  and  sing  her  praises.  But  now  he  was  not  so  sure 
that  that  would  be  the  result  of  Sheila's  entrance  into  society. 
As  the  date  of  a  certain  dinner-party  drew  near,  he  began  to 
wish  she  was  more  like  the  women  he  knew.  He  did  not  ob- 
ject to  her  strange,  sweet  ways  of  speech,  nor  to  her  odd 
likes  and  dislikes,  nor  even  to  an  unhesitating  frankness  that 
nearly  approached  rudeness  sometimes  in  its  scorn  of  all 
compromise  with  the  truth  ;  but  how  would  others  regard 
these  things?  He  did  not  wish  to  gain  the  reputation  of  hav- 
ing married  an  oddity. 

"Sheila,"  he  said,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
they  were  going  to  this  dinner-party,  "you  should  not  say 
like-a-ness.  There  are  only  two  syllables  in  likeness.  It 
really  does  sound  absurd  to  hear  you  say  Hke-a-tiessy 

She  looked  up  to  him,  with  a  quick  trouble  in  her  eyes. 


I02  A   PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

When  had  he  spoken  to  her  so  petulantly  before  ?  And  then 
she  cast  down  her  eyes  again,  and  said,  submissively,  "  I  will 
try  not  to  speak  like  that.  When  you  ^o  out  I  take  a  book 
and  read  aloud,  and  try  to  speak  like  you;  but  I  cannot 
learn  all  at  once." 

"/don't  mind,"  he  said  ;  "  but,  you  know,  other  people 
must  think  it  so  odd.  I  wonder  why  you  should  always  say 
gyarden  for  garden  now,  when  it  is  just  as  easy  to  say 
garden .?" 

Once  upon  a  time  he  had  said  there  was  no  English  like 
the  English  spoken  in  Lewis,  and  had  singled  out  this  very 
word  as  typical  of  one  peculiarity  in  the  pronunciation.  But 
she  did  not  remind  him  of  that.  She  only  said,  in  the 
same  simple  fashion,  "  If  you  will  tell  me  my  faults,  I  will 
try  to  correct  them." 

She  turned  away  from  him  to  get  an  envelope  for  a  letter 
she  had  been  v^riting  to  her  father.  He  fancied  something 
was  wrong,  and  perhaps  some  touch  of  compunction  smote 
him,  for  he  went  after  her  and  took  her  hand,  and  said, 
"Look  here,  Sheila.  When  I  point  out  any  trifles  like  that, 
you  must  not  call  them  fauhs,  and  fancy  that  I  have  any  se- 
rious complaint  to  make.  It  is  for  your  own  good  that  you 
should  meet  the  people  who  will  be  your  friends  on  equal 
terms,  and  give  them  as  little  as  possible  to  talk  about." 

"I  should  not  mind  their  talking  about  me,"  said  Sheila, 
with  her  eyes  still  cast  down,  "but  it  is  your  wife  they  must  not 
talk  about ;  and  if  you  will  tell  me  anything  I  do  wrong  I  will 
correct  it." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  think  it  is  anything  so  serious  as  that. 
You  will  soon  pick  up  from  the  ladies  you  will  meet  some 
notion  of  how  you  differ  from  them;  and  if  you  should 
startle  or  puzzle  them  a  little  at  first  by  talking  about  the 
chances  of  the  fishing  or  the  catching  of  wild  duck,  or  the 
way  to  reclaim  bog-land,  you  will  soon  get  over  all  that." 

Sheila  said  nothing,  but  she  made  a  mental  memorandum 
of  three  things  she  was  not  to  speak  about.  She  did  not 
know  why  these  subjects  should  be  forbidden,  but  she  was 
in  a  strange  land  and  going  to  see  strange  people,  whose 
habits  were  different  from  hers.  Moreover,  when  her  hus- 
band had  gone  she  reflected  that  these  people,  having  no 
fishing  and  peat-mosses,  and  no  wild-duck,  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  interested  in  such  affairs;  and  thus  she  fancied  she 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  1S3 

perceived  the  reason  why  she  should  avoid  all  mention  of 
these  things. 

When,  in  the  evening,  Sheila  came  down  dressed  and 
ready  to  go  out,  Lavender  had  to  admit  to  himself  that  he 
had  married  an  exceedingly  beautiful  girl,  and  that  there 
was  no  country  gawkiness  about  her  manner,  and  no  placid 
insipidity  about  her  proud  and  handsome  face.  For  one 
brief  moment,  he  triumphed  in  hii  heart,  and  had  some  wild 
glimpse  of  his  old  project  c  f  starilirg  his  small  world  with 
this  vision  from  the  Northern  seas.  But  Avhen  he  got  into 
the  hired  brougham,  and  thought  of  ihe  people  he  was  about 
to  meet,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  they  would  carry  away 
such  and  such  impressions  of  the  girl,  he  lost  faith  in  that 
admiration.  He  would  much  rather  have  had  Sheila  un- 
noticeable  and  unnoticed — ore  who  would  quietly  take  her 
place  at  the  dinner-table,  and  attract  no  moie  special  atten- 
tion than  the  flowers,  for  example,  which  every  one  would 
glance  at  with  some  satisfaction,  and  tht  n  forget  in  the  in- 
terest of  talking  and  dining.  He  was  quite  conscious  of  his 
own  weakness  in  thus  fearing  social  criticism.  He  knew  that 
Ingram  wou  d  have  taken  Sheila  anywhere  in  her  blue  serge 
dress,  and  been  quite  content  and  ob.ivious  of  observation. 
But  then  Ingram  was  independent  of  these  social  circles  in 
which  a  married  man  must  move,  and  in  which  his  position 
is  often  defir  ed  for  him  by  the  disposition  and  manners  of 
his  wife.  Ingram  did  not  know  how  women  talked.  It  was 
for  Sheila's  own  sake,  he  persuaded  himself,  that  he  was 
anxious  about  the  impression  she  should  make,  and  that  he 
had  drilled  her  in  all  that  she  should  do  and  say, 

"  Above  all  things,"  he  raid,  "  mind  y<.u  take  no  notice  of 
me.  Another  man  will  take  you  in  to  dinner,  of  course,  and 
I  shall  take  in  somebody  else,  and  we  shall  not  be  near  each 
other.  But  it's  after  dinner,  I  mean;  when  the  men  go  into 
the  drawing-room  don't  you  come  and  speak  to  me  or  take 
any  notice  of  me  whatever." 

"  Mayn't  I  look  at  you,  Frank  ?" 

"If  you  do,  you'll  have  half  a  dozen  people  all  watching 
you,  saying  to  themselves  or  to  each  other,  '  Poor  thing!  she 
hasn't  got  over  her  infatuation  yet.  Isn't  it  pretty  to  see  how 
naturally  her  eyes  turn  toward  him?'" 

"  But  I  shouldn't  mind  them  saying  that,"  said  Sheila, 
with  a  smile. 


184  A    PRIKCaSS    of    THULE. 

**  Oh,  you  musn't  be  pitied  in  that  fashion.  Let  them  keep 
their  compassion  to  themselves." 

*'Do  you  know,  dear,"  said  Sheila,  very  quietly,  "that  I 
think  you  exaggerate  the  interest  people  will  taTce  in  me  ?  I 
don't  think  I  can  be  of  such  importance  to  them.  I  don't 
think  they  will  be  watching  me  as  you  fancy." 

**  Oh,  you  don't  know,"  he  said.  "I  know  they  fancy  I 
have  done  something  romantic,  heroic  and  all  that  kind  of 
thing,  and  they  are  curious  to  see  you." 

*'  They  cannot  hurt  me  by  looking  at  me,''  said  Sheila 
simply.  *' And  they  will  soon  find  out  how  little  there  is  to 
discover." 

The  house  being  in  Holland  tark,  they  had  not  far  to  go; 
and  just  as  they  were  driving  up  to  the  door  a  young  man, 
slight,  sandy-haired,  and  stooping,  got  out  of  a  hansom  and 
crossed  the  pavement. 

"  By  Jove  !"  said  Lavender,  "  there  is  Redburn.  I  did  not 
know  he  knew  Mrs.  Lorraine  and  her  mother.  That  is  Lord 
Arthur  Redburn,  Sheila  ;  mind,  if  you  should  talk  to  him, 
not  to  call  him  '  my  lord.' " 

Sheila  laughed  and  said,  "  How  am  I  to  remember  all  these 
things?" 

They  got  into  the  house,  and  by-and-by  Lavender  found 
himself,  with  Sheila  on  his  arm,  entering  a  drawing-room  to 
present  her  to  certain  of  his  friends.  It  was  a  large  room, 
with  a  great  deal  of  gilding  and  color  about  it,  and  with  a 
conservatory  at  the  further  end;  but  the  blaze  of  light  had 
not  so  bewildering  an  effect  on  Sheila's  eyes  as  the  appear- 
ance of  two  ladies  to  whom  she  was  now  introduced.  She 
had  heard  much  about  them.  She  was  curious  to  see  them. 
Many  a  time  had  she  thought  over  the  strange  story  Laven- 
der had  told  her  of  the  woman  who  heard  that  her  husband 
was  dying  in  a  hospital  during  the  war,  and  started  off,  her- 
self and  her  daughter,  to  find  him  out;  how  there  was  in  the 
same  hospital  another  dying  man  whom  they  had  known 
some  years  before,  and  who  had  gone  away  because  the  girl 
would  not  listen  to  him;  how  this  man,  being  very  near  to 
death,  begged  that  the  girl  would  do  him  the  last  favor  he 
would  ask  of  her,  of  wearing  his  name  and  inheriting  his 
property;  and  how,  some  few  hours  after  the  strange  and  sad 
ceremony  had  been  performed,  he  breathed  his  last,  happy 
in  holding  her  hand.     The  father  died  next  day,  and  the  two 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  1 85 

widows  were  tbrown  upon  the  world,  almost  without  friends, 
but  not  without  means.  This  man,  Lorraine,  had  been  pos- 
sessed of  considerable  wealthy  and  the  girl  who  had  suddenly 
become  mistress  of  it  found  herself  able  to  employ  all  possi- 
ble means  in  assuaging  her  mother's  grief.  They  began  to 
travel.  The  two  women  went  from  capital  to  capital,  until 
at  last  they  came  to  London;  and  here,  having  gathered 
around  them  a  considerable  number  of  friends,  they  pro- 
posed to  take  up  their  residence  permanently.  Lavender 
had  often  talked  to  Sheila  about  Mrs.  Lorraine;  about  her 
shrewdness,  her  sharp  sayings,  and  the  odd  contrast  between 
this  clever,  keen,  frank  woman  of  the  world  and  the  woman 
one  would  have  expected  to  be  the  heroine  of  a  pathetic 
tale. 

But  were  there  two  Mrs.  Lorraines?  That  had  been  Sheila's 
first  question  to  herself  when,  after  having  been  introduced 
to  one  lady  under  that  name,  she  suddenly  saw  before  her 
another,  who  was  introduced  to  her  as  Mis.  Kavanagh.  The 
mother  and  daughter  were  singularly  alike.  They  had  the 
same  slight  and  graceful  figure,  which  made  them  appear 
taller  tKin  they  really  were,  the  same  pale,  fine,  and  rather 
handsome  features,  the  same  large,  clear  gray  eyes,  and  ap- 
parently the  same  abundant  mass  of  soft,  fair  hair,  heavily 
plaited  in  the  latest  fashion.  They  were  both  dressed  en- 
tirely in  black,  except  that  the  daughter  had  a  band  of  blue 
round  her  slender  waist.  It  was  soon  apparent,  too,  that  the 
manner  of  the  two  women  was  singularly  different;  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  bearing  herself  with  a  certain  sad  reserve  that  al- 
most approached  melancholy  at  times,  while  her  daughter, 
with  more  life  and  spirit  in  her  face,  passed  rapidly  through 
all  sorts  of  varying  moods  until  one  could  scarcely  tell 
whether  the  affectation  lay  in  a  certain  cynical  audacity  in 
her  speech,  or  whether  it  lay  in  her  assumption  of  a  certain 
coyness  and  archness,  or  whether  there  was  any  affectation 
at  all  in  the  matter.  However  that  might  be,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  the  sincerity  of  those  giay  eyes  of  hers. 
There  was  something  almost  cruelly  frank  in  the  clear  look 
of  them;  and  .when  her  face  was  not  lit  by  some  passing 
smile,  the  pale  and  fine  features  seemed  to  borrow  something 
of  severity  from  her  unflinching,  calm  and  dispassionate 
habit  of  regarding  those  around  her. 

Sheila  was  prepared  to  like   Mrs.  Lorraine  from  the  first 


l86  A    PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

moment  she  had  caught  sight  of  her.  The  honesty  of  the 
gray  eyes  attracted  her.  And,  indeed,  the  young  widow 
seemed  very  much  interested  in  the  young  wife,  and,  so  far 
as  she  could,  in  that  awkward  period  just  before  dinner, 
strove  to  make  friends  witli  her.  Sheila  was  introduced  to  a 
number  of  people,  but  none  of  them  pleased  her  as  well  as 
Mrs.  Lorraine.  Then  dinner  was  announced,  and  Sheila 
found  that  she  was  being  escorted  across  the  passage  to  the 
room  on  the  other  side  by  the  young  man  whom  she  had  seen 
get  out  of  the  hansom. 

This  Lord  Arthur  Redburn  was  the  younger  son  of  a  great 
Tory  duke  ;  he  represented  in  the  House  a  small  country 
boroui^h,  which  his  father  practically  owned  ;  he  had  a  fair 
amount  of  ability,  an  uncommonly  high  opinion  of  himself, 
and  a  certain  affectation  of  being  bored  by  the  frivolous 
ways  and  talk  of  ordinary  society.  He  gave  himself  credit 
for  being  the  clever  member  of  the  family;  and  if  there  was 
any  cleverness  going,  he  had  it ;  but  there  were  some  who 
said  that  his  reputation  in  the  House  and  elsewhere  as  a  good 
speaker  was  mainly  based  on  the  fact  that  he  had  an  abun- 
dant assurance,  and  was  not  easily  put  out.  Unfortunately, 
the  public  could  come  to  no  decision  on  the  point,  for  the 
reporters  were  not  kind  to  Lord  Arthur,  and  the  substance  of 
his  speeches  was  as  unknown  to  the  world  as  his  manner  of 
delivering  them. 

Now,  Mrs.  Lorraine  had  intended  to  tell  this  young 
man  something  about  the  girl  whom  he  was  to  take  in  to  din- 
ner, but  she  herself  had  been  so  occupied  Avith  Sheila  that 
the  opportunity  escaped  her.  Lord  Arthur  accordingly 
knew  only  that  he  was  beside  a  very  pretty  woman,  who  was 
a  Mrs.  Somebody- 'the  exact  name  he  had  not  caught — and 
that  the  few  words  she  had  spoken  were  pronounced  in  a 
curious  way.     Probably,  he  thought,  she  was  from  Dublin. 

He  also  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  she  was  too  pretty  to 
know  anything  about  the  Deceased  Wife's  Sister  bill,  in 
which  he  was,  for  family  reasons,  deeply  interested,  and  con- 
sidered it  more  likely  that  she  would  prefer  to  talk  about 
theatres  and  such  things. 

"Were  you  at  Covent  Garden  last  night?"  he  said. 

"No,"  answered  S'.ieila.  "  But  I  was  there  two  days  ago, 
and  it  is  very  pretty  to  see  the  flowers  and  the  fruit;  and 
then  they  smell  so  sweetly  as  you  walk  through." 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  187 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  delightful,"  said  Lord  Arthur.  'But  I  was 
speaking  of  the  theatre." 

''Is  there  a  theatre  in  tnere  ?" 

He  stared  at  her,  and  inwardly  hoped  she  was  not  mad. 

"Not  in  among  the  shops,  no.  But  don't  you  know  Co- 
vent  Garden  Theatre?" 

"  I  have  never  been  in  any  theatre,  not  yet,"  said  Sheila, 

And  then  it  began  to  dawn  upon  him  that  he  must  be  talk- 
ing to  Frank  Lavender's  wife.  Was  there  not  some  rumor 
about  the  girl  having  come  from  a  remote  part  of  the  High- 
lands? He  determined  on  a  bold  stroke:  "You  have  not 
been  long  enough  in  London  to  see  the  theatres,  I  suppose?" 

And  then  Sheila,  taking  it  for  granted  that  he  knew  her 
husband  very  well,  and  that  he  was  q  iite  familiar  with  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  began  to  chat  to  him  freely 
enough.  He  found  that  this  Highland  girl,  of  whom  he  heard 
vaguely,  was  not  at  all  shy.  He  began  to  feel  interested. 
By  and  by  he  actually  made  efforts  to  assist  her  frankness, 
by  becoming  equally  fraiik,  and  by  telling  her  all  he  knew 
of  the  things  with  which  they  were  mutua  ly  acquainted.  Of 
course,  by  this  time  they  had  got  up  into  the  Highlands. 
The  young  man  had  himself  been  in  the  Highlands — fre- 
quently, indeed.  He  had  never  crossed  to  Lewis,  but  he  had 
seen  the  island  from  the  Sutht  rlandshire  coast.  There  were 
very  many  deer  in  Sutherlandshire,  were  there  not?  Yes,  he 
had  been  out  a  great  many  times,  and  had  had  his  share  of 
adventures.  Had  he  not  gone  out  there  before  daylight,  and 
waited  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  hidden  by  s^ome  rocks,  to  watch 
the  mist  clear  along  the  hillsides  and  in  the  valley  below? 
Did  he  not  tremble  when  he  fired  his  first  shot,  and  had  not 
something  passed  before  his  eyes,  so  that  he  could  not  see 
for  a  moment  whether  the  stag  had  fallen,  or  was  away  like 
lightning  down  the  bed  of  the  stream?  Somehow  or  other, 
Lord  Arthur  found  himself  relating  all  his  experiences,  as  if 
he  were  a  novice  begging  for  the  good  opinion  of  a  master. 
She  knew  all  about  it,  obviously,  and  he  would  tell  her 
his  small  adventures,  if  only  that  she  might  laugh  at  him. 
But  Sheila  did  not  laugh.  She  was  greatly  delighted 
to  have  this  talk  about  the  hills,  and  the  deer,  and  the 
wet  mornings.  She  forgot  all  about  the  dinner  before  her. 
The  servants  whipped  off  successive  plates  without  her  seeing 
anything  of  them;  they  received  random  answers  about  wine, 


l88  A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

SO  that  she  had  three  full  glasses  standing  by  her  untouched! 
She  was  no  more  in  Holland  Park  at  that  moment  than  were 
the  wild  animals  of  which  she  spoke  so  proudly  and  lovingly. 
If  the  great  and  frail  masses  of  flowers  on  the  table  brought 
her  any  perfume  at  all,  it  was  a  scent  of  peat-smoke.  Lord 
Arthur  thought  that  his  companion  was  a  little  too  frank 
and  confiding,  or  rather  that  she  would  have  been  had  she 
been  talking  to  any  one  but  himself.  He  rather  liked  it.  He 
was  pleased  to  have  established  friendly  relations  with  a  pretty 
woman  in  so  short  a  space;  but  ought  not  her  husband  to 
give  her  a  hint  about  not  admitting  all  and  sundry  to  the  en- 
joyment of  these  favors  ?  Perhaps,  too,  Lord  Arthur  felt 
bound  to  admit  to  himself  there  were  some  men  who,  more 
than  others,  inspired  confidence  in  women.  He  laid  no 
claims  to  being  a  fascinating  person,  but  he  had  had  his  shaie 
of  success,  and  considered  that  Sheilashowed  discrimination, 
as  well  as  good  nature,  in  talking  so  to  him.  Tnere  was,  after 
all,  no  necessity  for  her  husband  to  warn  her.  She  would 
know  how  to  guard  against  admitting  all  men  to  a  like  in- 
timacy. In  the  meantime,  he  was  very  well  pleased  to  be 
sitting  beside  this  pretty  and  agreeable  companion,  who  had 
an  abundant  fund  of  good  spirits,  and  who  showed  no  sort  of 
conscious  embarrassment  in  thanking  you  with  a  bright  look 
of  her  eyes,  or  by  a  smile  when  you  told  her  something  that 
pleased  or  amused  her. 

But  these  flattering  little  speculations  were  doomed  to  re- 
ceive a  sudden  check.  The  juvenile  M.  P.  began  to  remark 
that  a  shade  occasionally  crossed  the  face  of  his  x'air  com- 
panion, and  that  she  sometimes  looked  a  little  anxiously 
across  the  table,  where  Mr.  Lavender  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  were 
seated,  half  hidden  from  view  by  a  heap  of  silver  and  flowers 
in  the  middle  of  the  board.  But  though  they  could  not 
easily  be  :een,  except  at  such  moments  as  they  turned  to  ad- 
dress some  neighbor,  they  could  be  distinctly  enough  heard 
when  there  was  any  lull  in  the  general  conversation.  And 
what  Sheila  heard  did  not  please  her.  She  began  to  like  that 
fair,  clear-eyed  young  woman  less.  Perhaps  her  husband 
meant  nothing  by  the  fashion  in  which  he  talked  of  marriage 
and  th2  condition  of  a  married  man,  but  she  would  rather 
have  not  heard  him  talk  so.  Moreover,  she  was  aware  that 
in  the  gentlest  possible  fashion  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  making 
fun  of  her  companion,  and  exposing  him  to  small  and  grace- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  189 

ful  shafts  of  ridicule;  while  he  seemed,  on  the  whole,  to  en- 
joy these  attacks. 

The  ingenuous  self-love  of  Lord  Arthur  Redburn,  M.  P., 
was  severely  wounded  by  the  notion  that,  after  all,  he  had 
been  made  a  cat's  paw  of  by  a  jealous  wife.  He  had  been 
flattered  by  this  girl's  exceeding  friendliness;  he  had  given 
her  credit  for  genuine  impulsiveness,  which  seemed  to  him 
as  pleasing  as  it  was  uncommon  ;  and  he  had,  with  the  moder- 
ation expected  of  a  man  in  politics,  v/ho  hoped  some  day  to 
assist  in  the  government  of  the  nation,  by  accepting  a  junior 
lordship,  admired  her.  But  was  it  all  pretence?  Was  she 
paying  court  to  him  merely  to  annoy  her  husband?  Had 
her  enthusiasm  about  the  shooting  of  red  deer  been  prompted 
by  a  wish  to  attract  a  certain  pair  of  eyes  at  the  other  side 
of  the  table?  Lord  Arthur  began  to  sneer  at  himself  for 
having  been  duped.  He  ought  to  have  known.  Women 
were  as  much  women  in  a  Hebridean  Island  as  in  Bayswater. 
He  began  to  treat  Sheila  with  a  little  more  coolness,  while 
she  became  more  and  more  pre-occupied  with  the  couple 
across  the  table,  and  sometimes  was  innocently  rude  in  an- 
swering his  questions  somewhat  at  random. 

When  the  ladies  were  going  into  the  drawing-room,  Mrs. 
Lorraine  put  her  hand  within  Sheila's  arm  and  led  her  to  the 
entrance  to  the  conservatory.  "  I  hope  we  shall  be  friends," 
she  said. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Sheila,  not  very  warmly. 

"  Until  you  get  better  acquainted  with  your  husband's 
friends  you  will  feel  rather  lonely  at  being  left  as  at  present, 
1  suppose.'' 

"  A  little,"  said  Sheila. 

"  Is  is  a  s  Uy  thing  altogether.  If  men  smoked  after  dinner 
1  could  understand  it.  But  they  merely  sit,  looking  at  wine 
they  don't  drink,  talking  a  few  commonplaces  and  yawning.'* 

"  Why  do  they  do  it,  then?"  said  Sheila. 

"They  don't  do  it  everywhere.  But  here  we  keep  to  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  ancients." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  the  manners  of  the  ancients?" 
said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  tapping  her  daughter's  shoulder  as  she 
passed  with  a  sheet  of  music. 

'*  I  have  studied  them  frequently,  mamma,"  said  the 
daughter  with  composure,  "in  the  monkey-house  at  the 
Zoological  Gardens. 


190  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

The  mamma  smiled,  and  passed  on  to  place  the  music  on 
the  piano.  Sheila  did  not  understand  what  her  companion 
had  said;  and  indeed  Mrs.  Lorraine  immediately  turned, 
with  the  same  calm,  fair  face  and  fearless  eyes,  to  ask  Sheila 
whether  she  would  not,  by  and  by,  sing  one  of  those  North- 
ern songs  of  which  Mr.  Lavender  had  told  her. 

A  tall  girl  with  her  back  hair  tied  in  a  knot  and  her  cos- 
tume copied  from  a  well-known  pre-Raphaelite  drawing,  sat 
down  to  the  piano  and  sang  a  mystic  song  of  the  present 
day,  in  which  the  moon,  the  stars  and  other  natural  objects 
behaved  strangely,  and  were  somehow  mixed  up  with  the 
appeal  of  a  maiden  who  demanded  that  her  dead  lover  should 
be  reclaimed  from  the  sea. 

"  Do  you  ever  go  down  to  your  husband's  studio?"  said 
Mrs.  Lorraine. 

She  glanced  toward  the  lady  at  the  piano. 

"  Oh,  you  may  talk,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  with  the  least 
expression  of  contempt  in  her  gray  eyes.  "  She  is  singing 
to  gratify  herself,  not  us." 

"Yes,  I  sometimes  go  down,"' said  Sheila  in  as  low  a  voice 
as  she  could  manage  without  falling  into  a  whisper,  "  and  it 
is  such  a  dismal  place.  It  is  very  hard  on  him  to  have  to 
work  in  a  big  bare  room  like  that,  with  the  windows  half 
blinded.  But  sometimes  I  think  Frank  would  rather  have 
me  out  of  the  way." 

"  And  what  would  he  do  if  both  of  us  were  to  pay  him  a 
visit?"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine.  '' I  should  so  like  to  seethe 
studio!  Won't  you  call  for  me  some  day  and  take  me  with 
you  ?" 

Take  her  with  her,  indeed!  Sheila  began  to  wonder  that 
she  did  not  propose  to  go  alone.  Fortunately,  there  was  no 
need  to  answer  the  question,  for  at  this  moment  the  song 
came  to  an  end,  and  there  was  a  general  movement  and  mur- 
mur of  gratitude. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine  to  the  lady  who  had 
sung  the  song,  and  was  now  returning  to  the  photographs 
she  had  left,  "  thank  you  very  much.  I  knew  some  one 
would  instantly  ask  you  to  sing  that  song;  it  is  the  most 
charming  of  all  your  songs,  I  think,  and  how  well  it  suits 
your  voice,  too!" 

Then  she  turned  to  Sheila  again:  "  How  did  you  like  Lord 
Arthur  Redburn?" 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  IQI 

"  I  think  he  is  a  very  good  young  man." 

"Young  men  are  never  good,  but  they  may  be  very 
amiable,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  not  perceiving  that  Sheila  had 
blundered  on  a  wrong  adjective,  and  that  she  had  really 
meant  that  she  thought  him  honest  and  pleasant. 

"You  did  not  speak  at  all,  I  think,  to  your  neighbor  on 
the  right;  that  was  wise  of  you.  He  is  a  most  insufferable 
person,  but  mamma  bears  with  him  for  the  sake  of  his  daugh- 
ter, who  sang  just  now.  He  is  too  rich.  And  he  smiles 
blandly,  and  takes  a  sort  of  after-dinner  view  of  things,  as  if 
he  coincided  with  the  arrangements  of  Providence,  Don't 
yuu  take  coffee?  Tea,  then.  I  have  met  your  aunt — I  mean 
jyir.  Lavender's  aunt;  such  a  dear  old  lady  she  is." 

"  I  don't  like  her,"  said  SheiJa. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  really  ?" 

"  Not  at  present,  but  I  shall  try  to  like  her." 

''Well,''  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  calmly,  "you  know  she  has 
her  peculiarities.  I  wish  she  wouldn't  talk  so  much  about 
Marcus  Antoninus  and  doses  of  medicine.  I  fancy  I  smell 
calomel  when  she  comes  near.  I  suppose  if  she  were  in  a 
pantomime,  they'd  dress  her  up  as  aphial,  tieastring  around 
her  neck  and  label  her  '  Poison.'  Dear  me,  how  languid 
one  gets  in  this  climate  !  Let  us  sit  down.  I  wish  I  was  as 
strong  as  mamma.'' 

They  sat  down  together,  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  evidently  ex- 
pected to  be  petted  and  made  much  of  by  her  new  compan- 
ion. She  gave  herself  pretty  little  airs  and  graces,  and  said 
no  more  cutting  things  about  anybody.  And  Sheila  some- 
how found  herself  being  drawn  to  the  girl,  so  that  she  could 
scarcely  help  taking  her  hand,  and  saying  how  sorry  she  was 
to  see  her  so  pale  and  fine  and  delicate.  The  hand,  too,  was 
so  small  that  the  tiny  white  fingers  seemed  scarcely  bigger 
than  the  claws  of  a  bird.  Was  not  that  slender  waist,  to  which 
some  little  attention  was  called  by  a  belt  of  bold  blue,  jus*^ 
a  little  too  slender  for  health,  although  the  bust  and  shoulders 
were  exquisitely  and  finely  proportioned  ? 

"  We  were  at  the  Academy  all  the  morning,  and  mamma  is 
not  a  bit  tired.  Why  has  not  Mr.  Lavender  anything  at  the 
Academy?  Oh,  I  forgot,"  she  added,  with  a  smile.  "Of 
course,  he  has  been  very  much  engaged.  But  now  I  suppose 
he  will  settle  down  to  work." 

Sheila  wished  that  this  fragile-looking  girl  would  not  so 


1^2  A   PRINCESS   OF   THtJLE. 

continually  refer  to  her  husband,  but  how  was  any  one  to 
find  fault  with  her  when  she  put  a  little  air  of  plaintiveness 
into  the  ordinarily  cold  gray  eyes,  and  looked  at  her  small 
hand  as  much  as  to  say,  "  The  fingers  there  are  very  small, 
and  even  whiter  than  the  glove  that  covers  them.  They  are 
the  fingers  of  a  child,  who  ought  to  be  petted." 

Then  ihe  men  came  in  from  the  dining-room.  Lavender 
looked  around  to  see  where  Sheila  was — perhaps  with  a  trifle 
of  disappointment  that  she  was  not  the  most  prominent  fig- 
ure there.  Had  he  expected  to  find  all  the  women  surround- 
ing her  and  admiring  her,  and  all  the  men  going  up  to  pay 
court  to  her?  Sheila  was  seated  near  a  small  table,  and 
Mrs.  Lorra'ne  was  showing  her  something.  She  was  just  like 
anybody  else.  If  she  was  a  wonderful  sea-princess  who  had 
come  into  a  new  world,  no  one  seemed  to  observe  her.  The 
only  thing  that  distinguished  her  from  the  women  around  her 
was  her  freshness  of  color,  and  the  unusual  combination  of 
black  eyelashes  and  dark  blue  eyes.  Lavender  had  arranged 
that  Sheila's  first  appearance  in  public  should  be  at  a  very 
quiet  little  dinner  party,  but  even  here  she  failed  to  create 
any  profound  impression.  She  was,  as  he  had  to  confess  to 
himself  again,  just  like  anybody  e'se. 

He  went  over  to  where  Mrs.  Lorraine  was,  and  sat  down 
beside  her.  Sheila,  remembering  his  injunctions,  felt  bound 
to  leave  him  there;  and  as  she  rose  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Kavanagh, 
who  was  standing  by,  that  lady  came  and  begged  her  to  sing 
a  Highland  song.  By  this  time  Lavender  had  succeeded  in 
interesting  his  companion  about  something  or  other,  and 
neither  of  them  had  noticed  that  Sheila  bad  gone  to  the 
piano,  attended  by  the  young  politician  who  had  taken  her  in 
to  dinner.  Nor  did  they  interrupt  their  talk  merely  because 
some  one  had  played  a  few  bars  of  prelude.  But  what  was 
this  that  suddenly  startled  Lavender  to  the  heart,  causing  him 
to  look  up  with  surprise?  He  had  not  heard  the  air  since  he 
was  in  Borva,  and  when  Sheila  sang 

Hark,  hark  !  the  horn 

On  mountain-breezes  borne, 

Awake,  it  is  morn, 

Awake,  Monaltrie  ! 

all  sorts  of  reminiscences  came  rushing  in  upon  him.  How 
often  had  he  heard  that  wild  story  of  Monaltrie's  flight  sung 
out  in  the  small  chamber  over  the  sea,  with  a  sound  of  the 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  ip3 

■waves  outside  and  a  scent  of  sea-weed  coming  in  at  the  door 
and  the  window !  It  was  from  the  shores  of  Borva  that  young 
Monaltrie  must  have  fled.  It  must  have  been  in  Borva  that 
his  sweetheart  sat  in  her  bower  and  sang,  the  burden  of  all 
her  singing  being,  "Return,  Monaltrie!"  And  then,  as 
Sheila  sang  now,  making  the  monotonous  and  plaintive  air 
wild  and  strange — 

What  cries  of  wild  despair 
Awake  the  sultry  air  ? 
Frenzied  with  anxious  care. 
She  seeks  Monaltrie — 

he  heard  no  more  of  the  song.  He  was  thinking  of  by-gone 
days  in  Borva,  and  of  old  Mackenzie  living  in  his  lonely 
house  there.  When  Sheila  had  finished  singing  he  looked  at 
her,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  still  that  beautiful 
princess  whom  he  had  wooed  on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic. 
And  if  those  people  did  not  see  her  as  he  saw  her,  ought  he 
to  be  disappointed  because  of  their  blindness? 

But  if  they  saw  nothing  mystic  or  wonderful  about  Sheila, 
they,  at  all  events,  v/ere  considerably  surprised  by  the  strange 
sort  of  music  she  sang.  It  was  not  of  a  sort  commonly 
heard  in  a  London  drawing-room.  The  pathos  of  its  minor 
chords,  its  abrupt  intervals,  startling  and  wild  in  their  effect, 
and  the  slowly  subsiding  wail  in  which  it  closed,  did  not  much 
resemble  the  ordinary  drawing-room  "  piece."  Here,  at 
least,  Sheila  had  produced  an  impression;  and  presently 
there  was  aheap  of  people  around  the  piano,  expressing  their 
admiration,  asking  questions,  and  begging  her  to  continue. 
But  she  rose.  She  would  rather  not  sing  just  then.  Where- 
upon Lavender  came  to  her  and  said,  "  Sheila,  won't  you 
sing  that  wild  one  about  the  farewell — that  has  the  sound  of 
the  pipes  in  it,  you  know?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  directly. 

Lavender  went  back  to  his  companion. 

"  She  is  very  obedient  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Yes,  at  present,"  he  said;  and  he  thought  meanly  of 
himself  for  saying  it,  the  moment  the  words  were  uttered  : 

Oh,  soft  be  thy  slumbers,  by  Tighna-linne's  waters; 

Thy  late-wake  was  sung  by  Macdiarmid's  fair  daughters; 

But  far  in  Lochaber  the  true  heart  was  weeping, 

Whose  hopes  are  entombed  in  the  grave  where  thou'rt  sleeping. 


194 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 


So  Sheila  sang,  and  it  seemed  to  the  people  that  this  ballad 
was  even  more  strange  than  its  predecessor.  When  the  song 
was  ovex,  Sheila  seemed  rather  anxious  to  get  out  of  the 
crowd,  and,  indeed,  walked  asvay  into  the  conservatory  to 
have  a  look  at  the  flowers. 

Yes,  Lavender  had  to  confess  to  hims'elf,  Sheila  was  just 
like  anybody  else  in  this  drawing-room.  His  sea-princess 
had  produced  no  startling  impression.  He  forgot  that  he 
had  just  been  teaching  her  the  necessity  of  observing  the 
ways  and  customs  of  the  people  around  her,  so  that  she 
might  avoid  singularity. 

On  one  point,  at  least,  she  was  resolved  she  would  attend 
to  his  counsels;  she  would  not  make  him  ridiculous  by  any 
show  of  affection  before  the  eyes  of  strangers.  She  did  not 
go  near  him  the  whole  evening.  She  remained  for  the  most 
part  in  that  half-conservatory,  half-anie-room  at  the  end  of  the 
drawing-room ;  and  when  any  one  talked  to  her  she  answered, 
and  when  she  was  left  alone  she  turned  to  the  flowers.  All 
this  time,  however,  she  could  observe  that  Lavender  and 
Mrs.  Lorraine  were  very  much  engrossed  in  their  conversa- 
tion; that  she  seemed  very  much  amused,  and  he  at  times  a 
trifle  embarrassed;  and  that  both  of  them  had  apparently 
forgotten  her  existence,  Mrs.  Kavanagh  was  continually 
coming  to  Sheila  and  trying  to  coax  her  back  into  the  larger 
room,  but  in  vain.  She  would  rather  not  sing  any  more 
that  night.  She  liked  to  look  at  the  flowers.  She  was  not 
tired  at  all,  and  she  had  already  seen  those  wonderful  pho- 
tographs about  which  everybody  was  talking. 

"Well,  Sheila,  how  did  you  enjoy  yourself?"  said  her 
husband,  as  they  were  driving  home. 

"  I  wish  Mr.  Ingram  had  been  there,"  said  Sheila. 

"  Ingram!  He  would  not  have  stopped  in  the  place  five 
minutes,  unless  he  could  play  the  part  of  Diogenes  and  say 
rude  things  to  everybody  all  around.  Were  you  at  all 
dull?" 

"A  little." 

"  Didn't  somebody  look  after  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  many  persons  were  very  kind.     But —  but — " 

"Well?" 

"Nobody  seemed  to  be  better  off  than  myself.  They  all 
seemed  to  be  wanting  something  to  do;  and  I  am  sure  they 
were  all  very  glad  to  come  away." 


A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  I95 

"  No,  no,  no,  Sheila.  That  is  only  your  fancy.  You  were 
not  much  interested,  that  is  evident;  but  you  will  get  on  bet- 
ter when  know  more  of  tlie  people.  You  were  a  stranger — 
that  is  what  disappointed  you — but  you  will  not  always  be  a 
stranger." 

Sheila  did  not  answer.  Perhaps  she  contemplated,  with 
no  great  hope  or  longing,  the  possibility  of  her  coming  to 
like  such  a  method  of  getting  through  an  evening.  At  all 
events,  she  looked  forward  with  no  great  pleasure  to  the 
chance  of  her  having  lo  become  friends  with  JMrs.  Lorraine. 
All  the  way  home  bheila  was  examining  her  own  heart  to  try 
to  discover  why  such  bitter  feelings  should  be  there.  Surely 
that  girl  was  honest;  there  was  honesty  in  her  eyes.  She 
had  been  most  kind  to  Sheila  herself.  And  was  there  not  at 
times,  when  she  abandoned  the  ways  and  speech  of  a  woman 
of  the  world,  a  singular  coy  fascination  about  her  that  any 
man  might  be  excused  for  yield mg  to,  even  as  any  woman 
might  yield  to  it?  Sheila  fought  with  herself,  and  resolved 
thac  she  would  cast  fonh  from  her  heart  those  harsh  fancies 
and  indignant  feelings  tuat  seemed  to  have  established  them- 
selves th::re.     Sue  would  not  hate  Mrs.  Lorraine. 

As  for  Lavender,  what  was  he  thinking  of,  now  that  he  and 
his  young  wife  were  driving  home  from  their  firit  experi- 
ment in  society  ?  He  had  to  confess  to  a  certain  sense  of 
failure.  His  dreams  had  not  been  realized.  Every  one  who 
had  spoken  to  him  had  conveyed  to  him,  as  freely  as  good 
manners  would  admit,  their  congratulations  and  their  praises 
of  his  wife.  But  the  impressive  scenei  he  had  been  forecast- 
ing were  out  of  the  question.  There  was  a  little  curiosity 
about  her  on  the  part  of  those  who  knew  her  story,  and  that 
was  all.  Sheila  bore  herself  very  well.  She  made  no  blun- 
ders. Shi  had  a  good  presence,  she  sang  well,  and  every  one 
could  see  that  she  was  nandsome,  gentle  and  honest.  Sure- 
ly, he  argued  with  himself,  tnat  ought  to  content  the  most 
exacting.  But,  in  spite  of  all  argument,  he  was  not  content. 
He  did  not  regret  that  he  had  sacrificed  his  liberty  in  a  freak 
of  romance;  he  did  not  even  regard  the  fact  of  a  man  in  fiis 
position  having  dared  to  marry  a  penniless  girl  as  anything 
very  meritorious  or  heroic;  but  he  had  hoped  that  the  dra- 
matic circumstances  of  tlie  case  would  be  duly  recognized 
by  his  friends,  and  that  Sheila  would  be  an  object  of  interest 
and  wonder  and  talk  in  a  whole  ;eries  of  social  circles.     But 


196  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

the  result  of  his  venture  was  different.  There  was  only  one 
married  man  the  more  in  London,  and  London  was  not  dis- 
posed to  pay  any  particular  heed  to  that  circumstance. 


CHAPTER   XIH. 

BY   THE    WATERS   OF    BABYLON. 

If  Frank  Lavender  had  been  told  that  his  love  for  his 
wife  was  in  danger  of  waning,  he  would  have  laughed  the 
suggestion  to  scorn.  He  was  as  fond  of  her  and  as  proud  of 
her  as  ever.  Who  knew  as  well  as  himself  the  tenderness  of 
her  heart,  the  delicate  sensitiveness  of  her  conscience,  the 
generosity  of  self-sacrifice  she  was  always  ready  to  bestow  ? 
and  was  he  likely  to  become  blind,  so  that  he  should  fail  to 
see  how  fair  and  frank  and  handsome  she  was?  He  had 
been  disappointed,  it  is  true,  in  his  fancies  about  the  impres- 
sion she  would  produce  on  his  friends;  but  what  a  trifle  was 
that  !  The  folly  of  those  fancies  was  his  own.  For  the  rest, 
he  was  glad  that  bheila  was  not  so  different  from  the  other 
women  whom  he  knew.  He  hit  upon  the  profound  reflec- 
tion, as  he  sat  alone  in  his  studio,  that  a  man's  wife,  like  his 
costume,  should  not  be  so  remarkable  as  to  attract  attention. 
The  perfection  of  dress  was  that  you  should  be  unconscious 
of  its  presence;  might  that  not  be  so  with  marriage  ?  After 
all,  it  was  better  he  had  not  bound  himself  to  lug  abjut  a  lion 
whenever  he  visited  people's  houses. 

Still,  there  was  something.  He  found  himself  a  good  deal 
alone.  Sheila  did  not  seem  to  care  much  for  going  into 
society;  and,  although  he  did  not  much  like  the  notion  of 
going  by  himself,  nevertheless  one  had  certain  duties  towards 
one's  friends  to  perform.  She  did  not  even  care  to  go  down 
to  the  Park  of  a  forenoon.  She  always  professed  her  readi- 
ness to  go,  but  he  fancied  it  was  a  trifle  tiresome  for  her; 
and  so,  when  there  was  nothing  particular  going  on  in  the 
studio,  he  would  walk  down  through  Kensington  Gardens 
himself,  and  have  a  chat  with  some  friends,  followed  gener- 
ally by  luncheon  with  this  or  the  other  parly  of  them.  Sheila 
had  been  taught  that  she  ought  not  to  come  so  frequently  to 
that  studio.  Bras  would  not  lie  quiet.  Moreover,  if  dcHlers 
or  other  strangers  should  come  in,  would  they  not  take  her 


A    TRIXCESS    OF     TKVLE.  I97 

for  a  model  ?  So  Sheila  stayed  at  home;  and  Mr  Lavender, 
after  having  dressed  with  care  in  the  in  rning — with  very 
singular  care,  indeed,  considering  that  he  was  going  to  his 
work — used  to  go  down  to  his  studio  to  bmoke  a  cigarette. 
The  chances  were  that  he  was  not  in  the  humor  for  working. 
He  would  sit  down  in  an  easy-chair  and  kick  his  heels  on  the 
floor  for  a  time,  watching,  perhaps,  the  sunlight  come  in 
through  the  upper  part  of  the  windows  and  paint  yellow' 
squares  on  the  opposite  wall,  Then  he  would  go  out,  and 
iuck  the  door  behind  him,  leaving  no  message  whatever  for 
those  crowds  of  importmiate  dealers,  who,  as  Sheila  fancied, 
were  besieging  him  with  offers  in  one  hand  and  purses  of 
gold  in  the  other. 

One  morning,  after  she  had  been  in-doors  lor  two  or  three 
days,  and  had  grown  hopelessly  tired  of  the  monotony  of 
watching  that  sunlit  square,  she  was  filled  with  an  unconquer- 
able longing  to  go  away,  for  however  brief  a  space,  from  the 
sight  of  houses.  The  morning  was  sweet,  and  clear,  and 
bright,  white  clouds  were  slowly  crossing  a  fair  blue  sky,  and 
a  fresh  and  cool  breeze  was  blowing  in  at  the  open  French 
windows. 

"Bras,"  she  said,  going  down  stairs  and  out  into  the  small 
garden,  "we  are  going  into  the  country." 

The  great  deerhound  seemed  to  know,  and  rose  and  came 
to  her  with  great  gravity,  while  she  clasped  on  the  leash.  He 
was  no  frisky  animal  to  show  his  delight  by  yelping  and 
gamboling,  but  he  laid  his  long  nose  in  her  hand,  and  slowly 
wagged  the  down-drooping  curve  of  his  shaggy  tail;  and  then 
he  placidly  walked  by  her  side  up  into  the  hall,  where  he 
stood  awaiting  her. 

She  would  go  along  and  beg  of  her  husband  to  leave  his 
work  for  a  day,  and  go  with  ner  for  a  walk  down  to  Rich- 
mond Park.  She  had  often  heard  Mr.  Ingram  speak  of  walk- 
ing down,  and  she  remembered  that  much  of  the  road  was 
pretty.     Why  should  not  her  husband  have  one  holiday  ? 

"  It  is  such  a  shame,"  she  had  said  to  him  that  morning  as 
he  left,  "that  you  will  be  going  into  that  gloomy  place,  with 
its  bare  walls  and  chairs,  and  thewindowsso  that  you  cannot 
see  out  of  them!" 

.  "  I  must  get  some  work  done  somehow,  Sheila,"  he  said, 
ahhough  he  did  not  tell  her  that  lie  had  not  finished  a  pic- 
ture since  his  marriage. 

*'  I  wish  I  could  do  some  of  it  for  you,"  she  said. 


198  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  You!  All  the  work  you're  good  for  is  catching  fish  and 
feeding  ducks  and  planting  things  in  gardens.  Why  don't 
you  come  down  and  feed  the  ducks  in  the  Serpentine?" 

*'  I  should  like  to  do  that,"  she  answered.  "  I  will  go  any 
day  with  you.'' 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  see,  I  don't  know  until  I  get  along 
to  the  studio  whether  I  can  get  away  for  the  forenoon;  and 
then  if  I  were  to  come  back  here,  you  would  have  lictle  or 
no  time  to  dress.     Good-bye,  Sheila." 

"Good-bye,"  she  said  to  him;  giving  up  the  Serpentine 
without  much  regret. 

But  the  forenoon  had  turned  out  so  delightful  that  she 
thought  she  would  go  along  to  the  studio,  and  hale  him  out 
of  that  gaunt  and  dingy  apartment.  She  should  take  him 
away  from  town;  therefore,  she  might  put  on  that  rough,  blue 
dress  in  which  she  used  to  go  boating  in  Loch  Roag.  She 
had  lately  smartened  it  up  a  bit  with  some  white  braid,  and 
she  hoped  he  would  approve. 

Did  the  big  hound  know  the  dress  ?  He  rubbed  his  head 
against  her  arm  and  hand  when  she  came  down,  and  looked 
up  and  whined  almost  inaudibly. 

"  You  are  going  out,  Bras,  and  you  must  be  a  good  dog 
and  not  try  to  go  after  the  deer.  Then  I  vi'ill  send  a  very 
good  story  of  you  to  Mairi ;  and  when  she  comes  to  London 
after  the  harvest  is  over,  she  will  bring  you  a  present  from 
the  Lewis,  and  you  will  be  very  proud." 

She  went  out  into  the  square,  and  was,  perhaps,  a  little 
glad  to  get  away  from  it,  as  she  was  not  sure  of  the  blue  dress 
and  the  small  hat  with  its  sea-gull's  feather  being  precisely 
the  costume  which  she  ought  to  wear.  When  she  got  into  the 
Uxbridge  road  she  breathed  more  freely,  and  in  the  lightness 
of  her  heart  she  continued  the  conversation  with  Bras,  giving 
that  attentive  animal  a  vast  amount  of  information,  partly  in 
English,  partly  in  Gaelic,  which  he  answered  only  by  a  low 
whine  or  a  shake  of  his  shaggy  head. 

But  these  confidences  were  suddenly  interrupted.  She 
had  got  down  to  Addison  Terrace,  and  was  contentedly- 
looking  at  the  trees  and  chatting  to  the  dog,  when  by  acci- 
dent her  eyes  happened  to  light  on  a  brougham  that  was 
di  iving  past.  In  it — she  beheM  them  both  clearly  for  a  brief 
:e.:ond — were  her  husband  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  so  engaged  in 
conversation  that  neither  of  Ihem  iaw  her.     Sheila  stood  on 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  159 

the  pavement  for  a  couple  of  minutes  absolutely  bewildered. 
All  sorts  of  wild  fancies  and  recollections  came  crowding  in  up- 
on her — reasons  why  her  husband  wasunwilling  that  she  should 
visit  his  studio,  why  Mrs.  Lorraine  never  called  on  her,  and 
so  forth,  and  so  forth.  She  did  not  know  what  to  think  for 
a  time;  but  presently  all  this  tumult  was  stilled,  and  she  had 
resolved  her  doubts  and  made  up  her  mind  as  to  what  she 
should  do.  She  would  not  suspect  her  husband — that  was 
the  one  sweet  security  to  which  she  clung.  He  had  made 
use  of  no  duplicity;  if  there  were  duplicity  in  the  case  at  all 
he  could  not  be  the  author  of  it.  The  reasons  for  his  having 
of  late  left  her  so  much  alone  were  the  true  reasons.  And  if 
this  Mrs.  Lorraine  should  amuse  him  and  interest  him,  who 
ought  to  grudge  him  this  break  in  the  monotony  of  his 
work?  Sheila  knew  that  she  herself  disliked  going  to  those 
fashionable  gather  ngs  to  which  Mrs.  Lorraine  went,  and  to 
which  Lavender  had  been  accustomed  to  go  before  he  was 
married.  How  could  she  expect  him  to  give  up  all  his  old 
habits  and  pleasures  for  her  sake?  She  would  be  more 
generous.  It  was  her  own  fault  that  she  was  not  a  better 
companion  for  him,  then,  to  think  hardly  of  him  because  he 
went  to  the  Park  with  a  friend  instead  of  going  alone? 

Yet  there  was  a  great  bitterness  and  grief  in  her  heart  as 
she  turned  and  walked  on.  She  spoke  no  more  to  the  deer- 
hound  by  her  side.  Tnere  seemed  to  be  less  sunli2;ht  in  the 
a  r,  and  the  people  and  carriages  passing  were  hardly  so  busy 
and  cheerful  and  interesting  as  they  had  been.  But  all  the 
same,s  e  would  go  to  Richmond  Park,  and  by  herself;  for 
what  was  the  use  in  calling  in  at  the  studio?  and  how  could 
she  go  back  home  and  sit-in  the  house,  knowing  that  her  hus- 
band was  away  at  some  flower-show  or  morning  concert,  or 
some  such  thmg,  with  that  young  American  lady? 

She  knew  no  other  road  to  Richmond  than  that  by  which 
they  had  driven  shortly  after  her  arrival  in  London;  and  so 
it  was  that  she  went  down  and  over  Hammersmith  Bridge, 
and  around  by  Mortlake,  and  so  on  by  East  Sheen.  The 
road  seemed  terribly  long.  She  was  an  excellent  walker,  and 
in  ordinary  circumstances  would  have  done  the  distance 
without  fatigue;  but  when  at  length  she  saw  the  gates  of  the 
Park  before  her,  she  was  at  once  exceedingly  tired  and  al- 
most faint  from  hunger.  Here  was  the  hotel  in  which  they 
had  dined;  should  she  enter?   The  place  se^imed  very  grand 


200  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

and  forbidding;  she  had  scarcely  even  looked  at  it  as  she 
went  up  the  steps  with  her  husband  by  her  side.  However, 
she  would  venture,  and  accordingly  she  went  up  into  the  ves- 
tible,  looking  rather  timidly  about.  A  younggentleman,  ap- 
parently not  a  waiter,  approached  her  and  seemed  to  wait  for 
her  to  speak.  It  was  a  terrible  moment.  What  was  she  to 
ask  for?  and  could  she  askit  of  thisyoungman?  Fortunately, 
he  spoke  first,  and  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  go  into  the  cof- 
fee-room, and  if  she  expected  any  one. 

"  No,  I  do  not  expect  any  one,"  she  said;  and  she  knew 
that  he  would  perceive  the  peculiarity  of  her  accent;  "  but  if 
you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  where  I  may  have  a  bis- 
cuit—" 

It  occurred  to  her  that  to  go  into  the  Star  and  Garter  for 
a  biscuit  was  absurd;  and  she  added,  wildly,  "  or  anything 
to  eat." 

The  young  man  obviously  regarded  her  with  some  sur- 
prise, but  was  very  courteous,  and  showed  her  into  the  coffee- 
room  and  called  a  waiter  to  her.  Moreover,  he  gave  permis- 
sion for  Bras  to  be  admitted  into  the  room,  Sheila  promising 
that  he  would  lie  under  the  table  a.id  not  budge  an  inch. 
Then  she  looked  around.  There  were  only  three  persons  in 
the  room — one,  an  old  lady  seated  by  herself  in  a  far  corner, 
the  other  two  being  a  couple  of  young  folks  too  much  en- 
grossed with  each  other  to  mind  any  one  else.  She  began  to 
feel  more  at  home.  The  waiter  suggested  various  things  for 
lunch,  and  she  made  her  choice  of  something  cold.  Then 
she  mustered  up  courage  to  ask  for  a  glass  of  sherry.  How 
she  would  have  enjoyed  all  this  as  a  story  to  tell  to  her  hus- 
band but  for  that  incident  of  the  morning!  She  would  have 
gloried  in  her  outward  bravery,  and  made  him  smile  wiih  a 
description  of  her  inward  terror.  She  would  have  written 
about  it  to  the  old  man  in  Borva,  and  bid  him  consider  how 
she  had  been  transformed,  and  what  strange  scenes  Bra?  was 
now  witnessing. 

But  all  that  was  over.  She  felt  as  if  she  could  no  longer 
ask  her  husband  to  be  amused  by  her  childish  experiences; 
and  as  for  writing  to  her  father,  she  dared  not  write  to 
him  in  her  present  mood.  Perhaps  some  happier  time 
would  come.  Sheila  paid  her  bill.  She  had  heard  her  husband 
and  Mr.  Ingram  talking  about  tipping  waiters,  and  knew 
that  she  ought  to  give  someihing  to  the  man  who  had  at- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  20I 

tended  on  her.  But  how  much?  He  was  a  very  august- 
looking  person,  with  formally-cut  whiskers  and  a  severe  ex- 
pression of  face.  When  he  had  brought  back  the  change 
to  her  she  timidly  selected  a  half-crown  and  offered  it  to 
him.  There  was  a  little  glance  of  surprise;  she  feared  she 
had  not  given  him  enough.  Then  he  said  "Thank  you!" 
in  a  vague  and  distant  fashion,  and  she  Knew  that  she  had 
not  given  him  enough.  But  it  was  too  late.  Bras  was 
summoned  from  under  the  table,  and  again  she  went  out 
into  the  fresh  air. 

"Oh,  my  good  dog!'' she  said  to  him,  as  they  together 
walked  up  to  the  gates  and  into  the  Park,  "  this  is  a  very  ex- 
travagant country.  You  have  to  pay  half-a-crown  to  a 
servant  for  bringing  you  a  piece  of  cold  pie,  and  then  he 
looks  as  if  he  were  not  paid  enough.  And  Duncan,  who  will  do 
everything  about  the  house,  and  will  give  us  all  our  dinners, 
it's  only  a  pound  a  week  he  will  get,  and  Scarlett  has  to  be 
kept  out  of  that.  And  wouldn't  you  like  to  see  poor  old 
Scarlett  again  ?" 

Bras  whined,  as  if  he  understood  every  word. 

*'  I  suppose  now  she  is  hanging  out  the  washing  on  the 
gooseberry  bushes,  and  you  know  the  song  she  always  used 
to  sing  then  ?  Don't  you  know  that  Scarlett  carried  me 
about  long  before  you  were  born,  for  you  are  a  mere  infant 
compared  with  me  ?     And  she  used  to  sing  to  me  : 

"  Ged'  bheirte  mi'  bho'n  bhas  so. 
Mho  Sheila  bheag  6g  !" 

And  that  is  what  she  is  singing  just  now  in  the  garden; 
and  Mairi  she  is  bringing  the  things  out  of  the  washing 
house.  Papa  is  over  in  Stornoway  this  morning,  arranging 
his  accounts  with  the  people  there;  and  perhaps  he  is  down 
at  the  quay,  looking  at  the  Clansman,  and  wondering  when 
she  is  to  bring  me  into  the  harbor.  The  castle,  is  all  shut  up, 
you  know,  with  cloths  over  all  the  wonderful  things,  and  the 
curtains  all  down,  and  most  of  the  shutters  shut.  Do  you 
think  papa  has  got  my  letter  in  his  pocket,  and  does  he  read 
it  over  and  over  again,  as  I  read  all  his  letters  to  me  over 
and  over  again  ?     Ah-h!     You  bad  dog!" 

Bras  had  forgotten  to  listen  to  his  mistress  in  the  excite- 
ment of  seeing  in  the  distance  a  large  herd  of  deer  under  cer- 
tain trees.     She   felt   by  the  leas  i  that  he  was  trembling  in 


2Q2  A   PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

everylimb  with  expectation,  and  straining  hard  on  the  collar. 
Again  and  again  she  admonished  him  in  vain,  until  she  had 
at  last  to  drag  him  away  down  the  hill,  putting  a  small  plan- 
taiion  between  him  and  the  herd.  Here  she  found  a  large 
umbrageous  chestnut  tree,  with  a  wooden  seat  around  its 
trunk,  and  so  she  sat  down  in  the  green  twilight  of  the 
leaves,  while  Bras  came  and  put  his  head  in  her  lap.  Out 
beyond  the  shadow  of  the  tree  all  the  world  lay  bathed  in 
sunlight,  and  a  great  silence  brooded  over  the  long  undula- 
tions of  the  Park,  where  not  a  human  being  was  within 
sight.  How  strange  it  was,  she  fell  to  thinking,  that  within 
a  short  distance  there  were  millions  of  men  and  women, 
while  here  she  was  absolutely  alone  ?  Did  they  not  care, 
then,  for  the  sunlight  and  the  trees  and  the  sweet  air  ?  Were 
they  so  wrapped  up  in  those  social  observances  that  seemed 
to  her  so  barren  of  interest  ? 

"  They  have  a  beautiful  country  here,"  she  said,  talk- 
ing in  a  rambling  and  wistful  way  to  Bras,  and  scarcely 
noticing  the  eager  light  in  his  eyes,  as  if  he  were  trying  to 
understand.  "  They  have  no  rain  and  no  fog;  almost  always 
blue  skies,  and  the  clouds  high  up  and  far  away.  And  the 
beautiful  trees  they  have,  too  1  you  never  saw  anything  like 
that  in  the  Lewis,  not  even  at  Stornoway.  And  the  people 
are  so  rich  and  beautiful  in  their  dre.-s,  and  all  the  day  they 
have  only  to  think  how  to  enjoy  themselves  and  what  new 
amusements  is  for  the  morrow.  But  I  think  they  are  tired 
of  having  nothing  to  do;  or,  perhaps,  you  know,  they  are 
tired  because  ihey  have  nothing  to  fight  against — no  hard 
■weather  and  hunger  and  poverty.  They  do  not  care  for  each 
other  as  they  would  if  they  were  workmg  on  the  same  farm, 
and  trying  to  save  up  for  the  Winter;  or  if  they  were  going 
out  to  the  fishing,  and  very  glad  to  come  home  again  from 
Caithness  to  find  all  the  old  people  very  well  and  the  young 
ones  ready  for  a  dance  and  a  dram,  and  much  joy  and  laugh- 
ing and  telling  of  stories.  It  is  a  very  great  difference  there 
will  be  in  the  people — very  great." 

Bras  whined:  perhaps  he  understood  her  better  now  that 
she  had  involuntarily  fallen  into  something  of  her  old  accent 
and  habit  of  speech. 

'•Wouldn't  you  like.  Bras,  to  be  up  in  Borva  again — only 
for  this  afternoon  ?  All  the  people  would  come  running  out ; 
and  it  is  little  Ailasa,  she   would  put   her  arms  aruuntl  your 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


203 


neck;  and  old  Peter  McTavish,  he  would  hear  who  it  was,  and 
come  out  of  his  house  groping  by  the  wall,  and  he  would 
say,  'Pless  me!  iss  it  you,  Miss  Sheila,  indeed  and  mirover? 
It  iss  a  long  time  since  you  hef  left  the  Lewis.'  Yes  it  is  a 
long  time — a  long  time;  and  I  will  be  almost  forgotten  what 
it  is  like  sometimes  when  I  try  to  think  of  it.  Here  it  is  al- 
ways the  s  ime — the  same  houses,  tlie  same  soft  air,  the  same 
siill  sunlight,  the  same  things  to  do  and  placts  to  see — no 
storms  shai<ing  the  windows  or  ships  running  into  the  harbor, 
and  you  cannot  go  down  to  the  shore  to  see  what  has  hap- 
pened, or  up  the  hill  to  look  how  the  sea  is  raging.  But  it  is 
one  day  vie  w;ll  go  back  to  the  Lewis— oh,  yes,  we  will  go 
bark  to  the  Lewis!" 

She  rose  and  looked  wistfully  around  her,  and  then  turned 
with  a  sigh  to  make  her  way  to  the  gates.  It  was  with  no 
especial  sort  of  gladness  that  she  thought  of  returning  home. 
Here,  in  the  great  siillnrss,  she  had  been  able  to  dream  of 
the  far  island  which  she  knew,  and  to  fancy  herself  for  a  few 
miniites  there;  row  she  was  going  back  to  tl.e  drenry  mon- 
otony of  her  life  in  that  square,  and  to  the  doubts  and  anx'e- 
ties  which  had  been  sugge^ted  to  her  in  the  morning.  The 
world  she  was  about  to  tnter  once  more  seemed  so  much  less 
homely,  so  much  less  full  of  interest  and  purpose,  than  that 
other  and  distant  world  she  had  been  witfuUy  regarding  for 
a  time.  The  people  around  her  hid  neither  the  joys  nor  the 
sorrows  with  which  she  had  been  taught  to  sympathize. 
Their  cares  seemed  to  her  to  be  exarg. 'ration  of  trifles — she 
could  feel  no  piiy  for  them;  their  .satisfaciion  was  derived 
from  sources  unintelligible  to  her.  And  the  soc'al  atmos- 
phere around  her  seemed  still  and  close  and  suffocating;  so 
that  she  was  like  to  cry  out  at  times  for  one  breath  of  God's 
clear  wind — for  a  shaft  of  lightning  even — to  cut  through  the 
sultry  and  drowsy  sameness  of  her  life. 

She  had  almost  forgotten  the  dog  by  her  side.  While  sit- 
ting under  the  chestnut  she  had  carelessly  and  loosely  wound 
the  leash  around  his  neck  in  the  semblance  of  a  collar,  and 
when  she  arose  and  came  away  she  let  the  dog  walk  by  her 
side  without  undoing  the  leaih  and  taking  proper  charge  of 
him.  She  was  thinking  of  far  other  things,  indeed,  when 
she  was  start'ed  by  some  one  calling  to  her,  "Look  out,_M;ss, 
or  you'll  have  your  dog  shot !" 

She  turned  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  what  sent  a  thrill  of 


204  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

terror  to  her  heart.  Bras  had  sneaked  off  from  her  side — 
had  trotted  Hghtly  over  the  breckans,  and  was  now  in  full 
chase  of  a  herd  of  deer  which  were  flying  down  the  slope  on 
the  other  side  of  the  plantation.  He  rusiied  now  at  one,  now 
at  another,  the  very  number  of  chances  presented  to  him 
proving  the  safety  of  the  whole  herd.  But  as  Sheila,  with  a 
swift  flight  that  would  have  astonished  most  town-bred  girls, 
followed  the  wild  chase  and  came  to  the  crest  of  the  slope, 
she  could  see  that  the  hound  had  at  length  singled  out  a  par- 
ticular deer — a  fine  buck,  with  handsome  horns,  that  was 
making  straight  for  the  foot  of  the  valley.  The  herd,  that 
had  been  much  scattered,  were  now  drawing  together  again, 
thoujh  checking  nothing  of  their  speed;  but  this  single  buck 
had  been  driven  from  his  companions,  and  was  doing  his 
utmost  to  escape  from  the  fangs  of  the  powerful  animal  be- 
hind him. 

What  could  she  do  but  run  wildly  and  breathlessly  on  ? 
The  dog  was  now  far  beyond  the  reach  of  her  voice.  She 
had  no  whistle.  All  sorts  of  fearful  anticipations  rushed  in 
on  her  mind,  the  most  prominent  of  all  being  the  anger  of 
her  father  if  Bras  were  shot.  How  could  she  go  back  to 
Borva  with  such  a  tale?  and  how  could  she  live  in  London 
without  this  companion  who  had  come  with  her  from  the 
far  North?  Then  what  terrible  things  were  connected  with 
the  killing  of  deer  in  a  royal  park  !  She  remembered  vaguely 
what  Mr.  Ingram  and  her  husband  had  been  saying;  and 
while  these  things  had  been  crowding  in  upon  her  she  felt 
her  strength  beginning  _to  fail,  while  both  the  dog  and  the 
deer  had  disappeared  altogether  from  sight. 

Strange,  too,  that  in  the  midst  of  her  fatigue  and  fright, 
while  she  still  managed  to  struggle  on  with  a  sharp  pain  at  her 
heart  and  a  sort  of  mist  before  her  eyes,  she  had  a  vague  con- 
sciousness that  her  husband  would  be  deeply  vexed,  not  by 
the  conduct  or  the  fate  of  Bras,  but  by  her  being  the  heroine 
of  so  mad  an  adventure.  She  knew  that  he  wished  her  to  be 
serious  and  subdued  and  proptr,  like  the  ladies  whom  she 
met,  while  an  evil  destiny  seemed  to  dog  her  footsteps  and 
precipitate  her  into  all  sorts  of  erratic  mishaps  and  "  scenes.'' 
However,  this  adventure  was  likely  soon  to  have  an  end.  She 
could  go  no  further.  Whatever  had  become  of  Bras,  it  was 
in  vain  for  her  to  ihink  of  pursuing  him.  When  she  at  length 
r^.ached  a  broa  1  and  smooth  road  leading  through  the  pasture, 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  205 

she  could  only  stand  still  and  press  her  two  hands  over  her 
heart,  while  her  head  seemed  giddy,  and  she  did  not  see  two 
men  who  had  been  standing  on  the  road  close  by,  until  they 
came  up  and  addressed  her. 

Then  she  started  and  looked  around,  finding  before  her 
two  men  who  were  apparently  laborers  of  some  sort,  one  of 
them  having  a  shovel  over  his  shoulder. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  miss,  but  wur  that  your  davv^g?" 

"Yes,"  she  said, eagerly.  "  Could  you  get  him?  Did  you 
see  him  go  by  ?  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

''Me  and  my  mate  saw  him  go  by,  sure  enough;  but  as 
for  getting  him — why  the  keepers  '11  have  shot  him  by  this 
time." 

"  Oh,  no?"  cried  Sheila,  almost  in  tears,  "they  must  not 
shoot  him.  It  was  my  fault.  I  will  pay  them  for  all  the 
harm  he  has  done.  Can't  you  tell  me  which  w^ay  he  will  go 
past  ?  " 

"I  don't  think,  miss,"  said  the  spokesman,  quite  respect- 
fully, "as  you  can  go  much  furder.  If  you  would  sit  down 
and  rest  yourself,  and  keep  an  eye  on  this  'ere  shovel,  me  and 
my  mate  will  have  a  hunt  arter  the  dawg." 

Sheila  not  only  accepted  the  offer  gratefully,  but  prom- 
ised to  give  them  all  the  money  she  had  if  only  they  would 
bring  back  the  dog  unharmed.  She  made  this  offer  in  con- 
sequence of  some  talk  between  her  husband  and  her  father 
which  she  had  overheard.  Lavender  was  speaking  of  the 
civility  he  had  frequently  experienced  at  the  handsof  Scotch 
shepherds,  and  of  the  independence  with  which  they  refused  to 
accept  any  compeniation  even  for  services  which  cost  thera 
a  good  deal  of  time  and  trouble.  Perhaps  it  was  to  please 
Sheila's  father,  but,  at  any  rate,  the  picture  the  young  man 
drew  of  the  venality  and  the  cupidity  of  the  folks  in  the 
South  was  a  desperately  dark  one.  Ask  the  name  of  a  vil- 
lage, have  your  stick  picked  up  for  you  from  the  pavement, 
get  into  acab  or  get  out  of  it,  and  directly  there  wasa  touch 
of  the  cap  and  an  unspoken  request  for  coppers.  Then,  as 
the  services  rendered  rose  in  importance,  so  did  the  fees — 
to  waiters,  to  coachmen,  to  gamekeepers.  The.-e  things  and 
many  more  sank  into  Sheila's  heart.  She  heard  and  believed, 
and  came  down  to  the  South  with  the  notion  that  every 
man  and  woman  who  did  you  the  least  service  expected  to 
be  paid  handsomely  for  it.     What,  therefore,  could  she  give 


206 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


those  two  men  if  they  brought  back  her  deerhound  but  all 
the  money  she  had  ? 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  wait  here  in  the  greatest  doubt  and 
uncertainty  while  the  afternoon  was  visibly  waning.  She  be- 
gan to  grow  afraid.  Perhaps  the  men  had  stolen  the  dog^ 
and  left  her  wiih  this  shovel  as  a  blind.  Her  husband  must 
have  come  home,  and  would  be  astonished  and  perplexed  by 
her  absence.  Surely,  he  would  have  the  sense  to  dine  by 
him-elf,  instead  of  waiting  for  her  ;  and  she  reflected  with 
some  glimpse  of  Fa  isfaction  that  she  had  left  everything 
connected  with  dinner  properly  arranged,  so  that  he  should 
have  nothing  to  p rumble  at. 

"Surely,"  she'said  to  herself  as  she  sat  there,  watching  the 
light  on  the  grass  and  the  trees  getting  more  and  more  yel- 
low— "  surely  I  am  very  wicked  or  very  wretched  to  think 
of  his  grumbling  in  any  case.  If  he  grumbles,  it  is  because  I 
v/ill  attend  too  much  to  the  affairs  of  the  house,  and  not 
amuse  myself  enouj^h.  He  is  very  good  to  me,  and  I  have 
no  right  to  think  of  his  grumbling.  And  I  wish  I  cared  to 
amuse  myself  more — to  be  more  ot  a  companion  to  him;  but 
it  is  so  difficult  among  all  those  people." 

The  revery  was  interrupted  by  tne  sound  of  footsteps  on 
the  grass  behind,  and  she  turned  quickly  to  find  the  two  men 
approaching  her,  one  of  them  leading  the  captive  Bras  by 
the  leash.  Sheila  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  great  gladness. 
She  did  not  care  even  to  accuse  the  culprit,  whose  conscious- 
ness of  guilt  was  evident  in  his  look  and  in  the  droop  of  his 
tail.  Bras  did  not  once  turn  his  eyes  to  his  mistress.  He 
hung  down  his  head,  while  he  p  mted  rapidly,  and  she  fancied 
she  saw  some  smearing  of  blood  on  his  tongue  and  on  the 
side  of  his  jaw.  Her  fears  on  this  head  were  speedily  con- 
firmed. 

"  I  think,  miss,  as  you'd  better  take  him  out  o'  the  Park  as 
soon  as  may  be,  for  he's  got  a  deer  killed  close  by  the  Robin 
Hood  Gate,  in  the  trees  there;  and  if  the  keepers  happen  on 
it  afore  you  leave  the  Park,  you'll  get  into  trouble." 

**  Oh,  thank  you!  "  said  Sheila,  retaining  her  composure 
bravely,  but  with  a  terrible  sinking  o^  the  heart,  "  and  how 
can  I  get  to  the  nearest  railway  station?" 

"  You're  going  to  London,  miss?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  the  nearest  is  Richmond,  but  it  would 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE,  207 

be  quieter  for  you — don't  you  see,  miss — if  you  was  to  go 
along  to  the  Roehampton  Gate  and  go  to  Barnes." 

"  Will  you  show  me  the  gate  ?  "  said  Sheila,  choosing  the 
quieter  route  at  once. 

Bui  the  men  themselves  did  not  at  all  like  the  look  of  ac- 
companying her  and  this  dog  through  the  Park.  Had  they 
not  already  condoned  a  felony,  or  done  something  equally 
dreadful,  in  handing  to  her  a  dog  that  had  been  found  keep- 
ing watch  and  ward  over  a  slain  buck?  They  showed  her 
the  road  to  the  Roehampton  Gate,  and  then  they  paused  be- 
fore continuing  on  their  journey. 

The  pause  meant  money.  Sheila  took  out  her  purse. 
There  were  three  sovereigns  and  some  silver  in  it,  and  the 
entire  sum,  in  fulfillment  of  her  promise,  she  held  out  to 
him  who  had  so  far  conducted  the  negotiations. 

Both  men  looked  frightened.  It  was  quite  clear  that 
either  good  feelmg  or  some  indefinite  fear  of  being  implica- 
cated  in  the  killing  of  the  deer  caused  them  to  regard  this 
big  bribe  as  something  they  could  not  meddle  with;  and  at 
length,  after  a  pause  of  a  second  or  two,  the  spokesman  said 
with  great  hesitation,  "  Well,  miss,  you  kept  your  word,  but 
me  and  my  mate — well,  if  so  be  as  it's  t>ie  same  to  you — 'd 
rather  have  summut  to  drink  your  health." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  too  much?" 

The  man  looked  at  his  neighbor,  who  nodded. 

"  It  was  only  for  ketchin'  of  a  dawg,  miss,  don't  you  see  ?" 
he  remarked  slowly,  as  if  to  impress  upon  her  that  they  had 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  deer. 

"  Will  you  take  this,  then?"  and  she  offered  them  half  a 
crown  each. 

Their  faces  lightened  considerably;  they  took  the  money, 
and  with  ^formal  expression  of  thanks  moved  off,  but  not 
before  they  had  taken  a  glance  around  to  see  that  no  one 
had  been  a  witness  of  this  interview. 

And  so  Sheila  had  to  walk  away  by  herself,  knowing  that 
she  had  been  guilty  of  a  dreadful  offence,  and  that  at  any 
moment  she  might  be  arrested  by  the  officers  of  the  law. 
What  would  the  old  King  of  Borva  say  if  he  saw  his  only 
daughter  in  the  hands  of  two  policemen  ?  and  would  not  all 
Mr.  Lavender's  fastidious  and  talkative  and  wondering 
friends  pass  about  the  newspaper  report  of  her  trial  and 
conviction?     A  man  was  approaching  her.     Ashedrewnea' 


''°'^  A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

her  heart  failed  her,  for  might  not  this  be  the  mysterious 
George  Ranger  himself,  about  whom  her  husband  and  Mr. 
Ingram  had  been  talking?  Should  she  drop  on  her  knees  at 
once  and  confess  her  sins,  and  beg  him  to  let  her  off?  If 
Duncan  were  with  her,  or  Mairi,  or  even  old  Scarlett  Mac- 
donald,  she  would  not  have  cared  so  much,  but  it  seemed 
so  terrible  to  meet  this  man  alone. 

However,  as  he  drew  near  he  did  not  seem  a  fierce  person. 
He  was  an  old  gentleman,  with  voluminous  white  hair,  who  was 
dressed  all  in  black,  and  carried  an  umbrella  on  this  warm 
and  bright  afternoon.  He  regarded  her  and  the  dog  in  a 
distant  and  contemplative  fashion,  as  though  he  would  prob- 
ably try  to  remember  some  time  afcer  that  he  had  really  seen 
them;  and  then  he  passed  on.  Sheila  began  to  breathe  more 
freely.  Moreover,  here  was  the  gate,  and  once  she  was  in 
the  high  road,  who  could  say  anything  to  hei?  Tired  as  she 
was,  she  still  walked  rapidly  on;  and,  in  due  time,  having 
had  to  ask  the  way  once  or  twice,  she  found  herself  at  Barnes 
Station. 

By-and-by  the  train  came  in;  Bras  was  committed  to  the 
care  of  the  guard,  and  she  found  herself  alone  in  a  railway 
carriage  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Her  husband  had  told 
her  that  whenever  she  felt  uncertain  of  her  whereabouts^  if  in 
the  country,  she  was  to  ask  for  the  nearest  station  and  get  a 
train  to  London;  if  in  town  she  was  to  get  into  a  cab  and 
give  the  driver  her  address.  And,  indeed,  Sheila  had  been 
so  much  agitated  and  perplexed  during  this  afternoon  that 
she  acted  in  a  sort  of  mechanical  fashion,  and  really  escaped 
the  nervousness  which  otherwise  would  have  attended 
the  novel  experience  of  purchasing  a  ticket  and  arranging 
about  the  carriage  of  a  dog  in  the  break-van.  Even  now, 
when  she  found  herself  traveling  alone,  and  shortly  to  arrive 
at  a  part  of  London  she  had  never  seen,  her  crowding 
thoughts  and  fancies  were  not  about  her  own  situation,  but 
about  the  reception  she  would  receive  from  her  husband. 
Would  he  be  vexed  with  her  ?  Or  pity  her  ?  Had  he  called 
with  Mrs.  Lorraine  to  take  her  somewhere,  and  found  her 
gone?  Had  he  brought  home  some  bachelor  friends  to  din- 
ner, and  been  chagrined  to  find  her  not  in  the  house? 

It  was  getting  dusk  when  the  slow  four-wheeler  approached 
Sheila's  home.  The  hour  for  dinner  had  long  gone  by. 
Perhaps  her  husband  had  gone  away  somewhere  looking  for 
her,  and  she  would  find  the  house  empty. 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  209 

But  Frank  Lavender  came  to  meet  his  wife  in  the  hall,  and 
said,  "  Where  have  you  been?" 

She  could  not  tell  whether  there  was  anger  or  kindness  in 
his  voice,  and  she  could  not  well  see  his  face.  She  took  his 
hand  and  went  into  the  dining-room,  which  was  also  dusk, 
and  standing  there  told  him  all  her  story. 

*•  This  is  too  bad,  Sheila,"  he  said,  in  atone  of  deep  vexa- 
tion. "  By  Jove!  I'll  go  and  thrash  the  dog  within  an  inch 
of  his  life. ' 

"  No,''  she  said,  drawing  herself  up;  and  for  one  brief  sec- 
ond— could  he  have  but  seen  her  face — there  was  a  touch  of 
old  Mackenzie's  pride  and  firmness  about  the  ordinarily 
gentle  lips.  It  was  but  for  a  second.  She  cast  down  her  eyes 
and  said,  meekly,  "  I  hope  you  won't  do  that,  Frank.  The 
dog  is  not  to  blame.     It  was  my  fault.'' 

"Well,  really.  Sheila,"  he  said,  "  you  a-e  very  thoughtless. 
I  wish  you  would  take  some  little  trouble  to  act  as  other 
women  act,  instead  of  constantly  putting  yourself  and  me  in 
the  most  awkward  positions.  Suppose  I  had  brought  any  one 
home  to  dinner,  now?  And  what  am  I  to  say  to  Ingram? 
for,  of  course,  I  went  direct  to  his  lodgings  when  I  discov- 
ered that  you  were  nowhere  to  be  found.  I  fancied  some 
mad  freak  had  taken  you  there;  and  I  should  not  have  been 
surprised.  Indeed,  I  don't  think  I  should  be  surprised  at 
anything  you  do.  Do  you  know  who  was  in  the  hall  when  I 
came  in  this  afternoon  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Sheila. 

*'  Why,  that  wretched  old  hag  who  keeps  the  fruit-stall. 
-And  it  seems  you  gave  her  and  all  her  family  tea  and  cake 
in  the  kitchen  last  night." 

"  She  is  a  poor  woman,"  said  Sheila,  humbly. 

"  A  poor  old  woman!"  he  said,  impatiently.  "  I  have  no 
doubt  she  is  a  lymg  old  thief,  who  would  take  an  umbrella  or 
a  coat,  if  only  she  could  get  the  chance.  It  is  really  too 
bad,  Sheila,  you  having  all  those  persons  about  you,  and  de- 
meaning yourself  by  attending  on  them.  What  must  the 
servants  think  of  you  ?'' 

"  I  do  not  heed  what  any  servants  think  of  me,''  she  said. 

She  was  now  standing  erect,  with  her  face  quite  calm. 

"Apparently  not,"  he  said,  "or  you  would  not  go  and 
make  yourself  ridiculous  before  them.'' 

Sheila  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  if  she  did  not  understand; 


2IO  A    PRINCESS     OF    TTTULE. 

and  then  she  said,  as  calmly  as  before,  but  with  a  touch  of 
indignation  about  the  proud  and  beautiful  lips,  "And  if  I 
make  myself  ridiculous  by  attending  to  poor  people,  it  is  not 
my  husband  who  should  tell  me  so." 

She  turned  and  walked  out,  and  he  was  too  surprised  to 
follow  her.  She  went  up  stairs  to  her  own  room,  locked 
herself  in  and  threw  herself  on  the  bed.  And  then  all  the 
bitterness  of  her  heart  rose  up  as  if  in  a  flood — not  against 
him,  but  against  the  country  in  which  he  lived,  and  the  so- 
ciety which  had  contaminated  him,  and  the  v/.  ys  and  habits 
which  seemed  to  create  a  barrier  between  herself  and  him, 
so  that  she  was  a  stranger  to  him,  and  incapable  of  becoming 
anything  else.  It  was  a  crime  that  she  should  interest  herself 
in  the  unfortunate  creatures  round  about  her,  that  she  should 
talk  to  them  as  if  they  were  not  human  beings  like  herself,  and 
have  a  grtat  sympathy  with  their  small  hopes  and  aims  ;  but 
she  would  not  have  been  led  into  such  a  crime  if  she  had  cul- 
tivated from  her  infancy  upward  a  consistent  self-indulgence, 
making  herself  the  centre  of  a  world  of  mean  desires  and 
petty  gratifications.  And  then  she  thought  of  the  old  and 
beautiful  days  up  in  the  Lewis,  where  the  young  English 
stranger  seemed  to  approve  of  her  simple  ways  and  her  char- 
itable work,  and  where  she  was  taught  to  believe  that  in  order 
to  please  him  she  had  only  to  continue  to  be  what  she  was 
then. 

There  was  no  great  gulf  of  time  between  that  period  and 
this;  but  what  had  not  happened  in  th"^  interval?  She  had 
not  changed — at  least  she  hoped  she  had  not  changed.  She 
loved  her  husband  with  her  whole  heart  and  soul;  her  devo- 
tion was  as  true  and  constant  as  she  herself  could  have  wished 
it  to  be  v/hen  she  dreamed  of  the  duties  of  a  wife  in  the  days 
of  her  maidenhood.  But  all  around  her  was  changed.  She 
had  no  longer  the  old  freedom — the  old  delight  in  living 
from  day  to  day — the  active  work,  and  the  enjoyment  of 
seeing  where  she  could  help  and  how  she  could  help  the  peo- 
ple around  her.  When,  as  if  by  the  same  sort  of  instinct  that 
makes  a  wild  animal  retain  in  captivity  the  habits  which  were 
necessary  to  its  existence  when  it  lived  in  freedom,  she  began 
to  find  out  the  circumstances  of  such  unfortunate  people  as 
were  in  her  neighborhood,  some  little  solace  was  given  to 
her;  but  these  people  were  not  friends  to  her,  as  the  poor 
folk  of  Borvapost  had  been.     She   knew,  too,    that   her  has- 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  Jill 

band  would  be  displeased  if  he  found  her  talking  with  a  wash- 
erwoman over  her  family  matters,  or  even  advising  one  of 
her  own  servants  about  the  disposal  of  her  wages;  so  that, 
while  she  concealed  nothing  from  him,  these  things  neverthe- 
less had  to  be  done  exclusively  in  his  absence.  And  was  she  in 
so  doing  really  making  herself  ridiculous?  Did  he  con- 
sider her  ridiculous?  Or  was  it  not  merely  the  false  and 
enervating  influences  of  the  indolent  society  in  which  he 
lived  that  had  poisoned  his  mind,  and  drawn  him  away  from 
her  as  though  into  another  world? 

Alas!  if  he  were  in  this  other  world,  was  not  she  quite 
alone?  What  companionship  was  there  possible  between 
her  and  the  people  in  this  new  and  strange  land  into  which 
she  had  ventured  ?  As  she  lay  on  the  bed,  with  her  head 
hidden  down  in  the  darkness,  the  pathetic  wail  of  the  cap- 
tive Jews  seemed  to  come  and  go  through  the  bitterness  of 
her  thoughts,  like  some  mournful  refrain:  "  By  the  rivers  of 
Babylon,  there  we  sat  down;  yea,  we  wept  when  v/e  remem- 
bered Zion."  She  almost  heard  the  words,  and  the  reply 
that  ro^e  up  in  her  heart  was  a  great  yearning  to  go  back  to 
her  own  land,  so  that  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  in  think- 
ing of  it,  and  she  lay  and  sobbed  there  in  the  dusk.  Would 
not  the  old  man  living  all  by  himself  in  that  lonely  island  be 
glad  to  see  his  little  girl  back  again  in  the  old  house  ?  And 
she  would  sing  to  him  as  she  used  to  sing,  not  as  she  had  been 
singing  to  those  people  whom  her  husband  knew.  "For 
there  they  that  carried  us  away  captive  required  of  us  a 
song;  and  they  that  wasted  us  required  of  us  mirth,  saying, 
Sing  us  one  of  the  songs  of  Zion."  And  she  had  sung  in  the 
strange  land,  among  the  strange  people,  with  her  heart  break- 
ing, with  thoughts  of  the  sea  and  the  hills,  and  the  rude  and 
sweet  and  simple  ways  of  the  old  by-gone  life  she  had  left 
behind  her. 

"Sheila!" 

She  thought  it  was  her  father  calling  to  her,  and  she  rose 
with  a  cry  of  joy.  For  one  wild  moment  she  fancied  that 
outside  were  all  the  people  she  knew — Duncan  and  Scarlett 
and  Mairi — and  that  she  was  once  more  at  home,  with  the 
sea  all  around  her,  and  the  salt,  cold  air. 

"  Sheila,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

It  w^as  her  husband.  She  went  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
stood  there  penitent  and  with  downcast  face. 


2  12  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

'*  Come,  you  must  not  be  silly,"  he  said,  with  some  kind- 
ness in  his  voice.  *'You  have  had  no  dinner.  You  must 
be  hungry." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  any;  there  is  no  use  troubling  the  ser- 
vants when  I  would  rather  lie  down,"  she  said. 

"The  servants!  You  surely  don't  take  so  seriously  what 
I  said  about  them,  Sheila?  Of  course  you  don't  need  to 
care  what  the  servants  think.  And  in  any  case  they  have  to 
bring  up  dinner  for  me,  so  you  may  as  well  come  and  try." 

"  Have  you  not  had  dinner?"  she  said  timidly. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  sit  down  and  eat  with  the  notion 
that  you  might  have  tumbled  into  the  Thames  or  been  kid- 
napped, or  something?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  in  the 
gloom  he  felt  his  hand  taken  and  carried  to  her  lips.  Then 
they  went  down  stairs  in  the  dining-room,  which  was  now 
lit  up  by  a  blaze  of  gas  and  candles. 

During  dinner,  of  course,  no  very  confidential  talking  was 
possible,  and,  indeed.  Sheila  had  plenty  to  tel'  of  her  adven- 
tures at  Richmond.  Lavender  was  now  in  a  more  amiable 
mood,  and  was  disposed  to  look  on  the  killing  of  the  roebuck 
as  rather  a  good  joke.  He  complimented  Sheila  on  her  good 
sense  in  having  gone  in  at  the  Star  and  Garter  for  lunch; 
and  altogether  better  relations  were  established  between  them. 

But  when  dinner  was  finally  over,  and  the  servants  dis- 
missed. Lavender  placed  Sheila's  easy-chair  for  her  as  usual, 
drew  his  own  near  hers,  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"  Now,  tell  me.  Sheila,"  he  said,  "were  you  really  vexed 
with  me  when  you  went  up  stairs  and  locked  yourselt  in  your 
room  ?  Did  you  think  I  meant  to  displease  you  or  say  any- 
thing harsh  to  you?" 

' '  No,  not  any  of  those  things,"  she  said  calmly ;  "  I  wished 
to  be  alone — to  think  over  what  had  happened.  And  I  was 
grieved  by  what  you  said,  for  I  think  you  cannot  help  look- 
mg  at  many  things  not  as  I  will  look  at  them.  That  is  all.  It 
is  my  bringing  up  in  the  Highlands,  perhaps." 

"  Do  you  know.  Sheila,  it  sometimes  occurs  to  me  that  you 
are  not  quite  comfortable  here  ?  And  I  can't  make  out  what 
is  the  matter.  I  think  you  have  a  perverse  fancy  that  you 
are  different  from  the  people  you  meet,  and  that  you  cannot 
be  like  them,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Now,  dear,  that  is 
only  a  fancy.  There  need  be  no  difference  if  you  only  will 
take  a  little  trouble." 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  213 

*'0h,  Frank!"  she  said,  going  over  and  putting  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  "  I  cannot  take  that  trouble.  I  cannot  try 
to  be  like  those  people.  And  I  see  a  great  difference  in  you 
since  you  have  come  back  to  London,  and  you  are  getting 
to  be  like  them  and  say  the  things  they  say.  If  I  could  only 
see  you,  my  own  darling,  up  in  the  Lewis  again,  with  rough 
clothes  on  and  a  gun  in  your  hand,  I  should  be  happy.  You 
were  yourself  up  there,  when  you  were  helping  us  in  the  boat, 
or  when  you  were  bringing  home  the  salmon,  or  when  we 
were  all  together  at  night  in  the  little  parlor,  you  know — " 

"My  dear,  don't  get  excited.  Now  sit  down  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it.  You  seem  to  have  the  notion  that  peo- 
ple lose  all  their  finer  sentiments  simply  because  they  don't, 
in  society,  burst  into  raptures  over  them.  You  mustn't  im- 
agine all  those  people  are  selfish  and  callous  merely  because 
they  preserve  a  decent  reticence.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  that 
constant  profession  of  noble  feelings  you  would  like  to  see 
would  have  something  of  ostentation  about  it." 

Sheila  only  sighed.  "I  do  not  wish  them  to  be  altered," 
she  said  by  and  by,  with  her  eyes  growing  pen&ive;  "all  I 
know  is,  that  I  could  not  live  the  same  life.  And  you — you 
seemed  to  be  happier  up  in  the  Highlands  than  you  have  ever 
been  since." 

"Well,  you  see,  a  man  ought  to  be  happy  when  he  is  en- 
joying a  holiday  in  the  country  along  with  the  girl  he  is  en- 
gaged to.  But  if  I  had  lived  all  my  life  killing  salmon  and 
shooting  wild  duck,  I  should  have  grown  up  an  ignorant 
boor,  with  no  more  sense  of — " 

He  stopped  for  he  saw  that  the  girl  was  thinking  of  her 
father. 

"  Well,  look  here,  Sheila.  You  see  how  you  are  placed — 
how  we  are  placed,  rather.  Wouldn't  it  be  more  sensible  to 
get  to  understand  those  people  you  look  askance  at,  and  es- 
tablish better  relations  wivh  them,  since  you  have  got  to  live 
among  them  ?  I  can't  help  thinking  you  are  too  much  alone, 
and  you  can't  expect  me  to  stay  in  the  house  always  with 
you.  A  husband  and  wife  cannot  be  continually  in  each 
other's  company,  unless  they  want  to  grow  heartily  tired  of 
each  other.  Now,  if  you  would  only  lay  aside  those  suspi- 
cions of  yours,  you  would  find  the  people  just  as  honest  and 
generous  and  friendly  as  any  other  sort  of  people  you  ever 
met,  although  they  don't  happen  to  be  fond  of  expressing 
their  goodness  in  their  talk," 


?I4  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  I  have  tried,  dear — I  will  try  again,"  said  Sheila. 

She  resolved  that  she  would  go  down  and  visit  ]\Ir?.  Lav- 
ender next  day,  and  try  to  be  interested  in  the  talk  of  such 
people  as  might  be  there.  She  would  bring  away  some  story 
about  this  or  the  other  fashionable  woman  or  noble  lord,  just 
to  show  her  husband  that  she  was  doing  her  best  to  learn. 
She  would  drive  patiently  around  the  Park  in  that  close  little 
brougham,  and  listen  attentively  to  the  moralities  of  Marcus 
Aurelius.  She  would  make  an  appointment  to  go  with  Mrs. 
Lavender  to  a  morning  concert;  and  she  would  endeavor  to 
muster  up  courage  to  ask  any  ladies  who  might  be  there  to 
lunch  with  her  on  that  day,  and  go  afterward  to  this  same 
entertainment.  All  these  things,  and  many  more, Sheila  silently 
vowed  to  herself  she  would  do,  while  her  husband  sat  and 
expounded  to  her  his  theories  of  the  obligations  which  society 
demanded  of  its  members. 

But  her  plans  were  suddenly  broken  asunder. 

"  I  met  Mrs.  Lorraine  accidentally  to-day,"  he  said. 

It  was  his  first  mention  of  the  young  American  lady. 
Sheila  sat  in  mute  expectation. 

"  She  alwavs  asks  very  kindly  after  you." 

"  She  is  very  kind." 

He  did  not  say,  however,  that  i\Irs.  Lorraine  had  more 
than  once  made  distinct  propositions,  when  in  his  company, 
that  they  should  call  in  for  Sheila,  and  take  her  out  for  a 
drive  or  to  a  flower  show,  or  some  such  place,  while  Laven- 
der had  always  some  excuse  ready, 

"  She  is  going  to  Brighton  to-morrow,  and  she  was  won- 
dering whether  you  would  care  to  run  down  for  a  day  or 
two." 

"  With  her?"  said  Sheila,  recoiling  from  such  a  proposal, 
instinctively. 

"  Of  course  not.  I  should  go.  And  then,  at  last,  you 
know,  you  would  see  the  sea,  about  which  you  have  been 
dreaming  for  ever  so  long." 

The  sea!  There  was  a  magic  in  the  very  word  that  could, 
almost  at  any  moment,  summon  tears  to  her  eyes.  Of  course 
she  accepted  right  gladly.  If  her  husband's  duties  were  so 
pressing  that  the  long-talked-of  journey  to  Lewis  and  Borva 
had  to  be  repeatedly  and  indefinitely  postponed,  here  at 
least  would  be  a  chance  of  looking  again  at  the  sea — of 
drinking  in  the  freshness  and  light  and  color  of  it — of  re- 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  215 

newing  her  old  and  intimate  friendship  with  it  that  had  been 
broken  off  for  so  long  by  her  stay  in  this  city  of  perpetual 
houses  and  still  sunshine. 

"  You  can  tell  her  you  will  go  when  you  see  her  to-night  at 
Lady  Mary's.  By  the  way,  isn't  it  time  for  you  to  begin  to 
dress?" 

"Oh,  Lady  Mary's!"  repeated  Sheila  mechanically,  who 
had  quite  forgotten  about  her  engagement  for  that  evening. 

"Perhaps  you  are  too  tired  to  go,"  said  her  husband. 

She  was  a  little  tired,  in  truth.  But  surely,  just  after  her 
promises,  spoken  and  unspoken,  some  little  effort  was  de- 
manded of  her;  so  she  bravely  went  to  dress,  and  in  about 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  was  ready  to  drive  down  to  Curzon 
Street.  Her  husband  had  never  seen  her  look  so  pleased  be- 
fore in  going  out  to  any  party.  He  flattered  himself  that 
his  lecture  had  done  her  some  good.  There  was  fair  com- 
mon sense  in  what  he  had  said,  and  although,  doubtless,  a 
girl's  romanticism  was  a  pretty  thing,  it  would  have  to  yield 
to  the  actual  requirements  of  society.  In  time  he  should 
educate  Sheila. 

But  he  did  not  know  v^^hat  brightened  the  girl's  face  all 
that  night,  and  put  a  new  life  into  the  beautiful  eyes,  so  that 
even  those  who  knew  her  best  were  struck  by  her  singular 
beauty.  It  was  the  sea  that  was  coloring  Sheila's  eyes. 
The  people  around  her,  the  glare  of  the  candles,  the  hum 
of  talking  and  the  motion  of  certain  groups  dancing  over 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  throng — all  were  faint  and  vision- 
ary, for  she  was  busily  wondering  what  the  sea  would  be  like 
the  next  morning,  and  what  strange  fancies  would  strike  her 
when  once  more  she  walked  on  sand  and  heard  the  roar  of 
waves.  That,  indeed,  was  the  sound  that  was  present  in  her 
ears  while  the  music  played  and  the  people  murmured  around 
her.  Mrs.  Lorraine  talked  to  her,  and  was  surprised  and 
amused  to  notice  the  eager  fashion  in  which  the  girl  spoke  of 
their  journey  of  the  next  day.  The  gentleman  who  took 
her  in  to  supper  found  himself  catechised  about  Brighton  in 
a  manner  which  afforded  him  more  occupation  than  enjoy- 
ment. And  when  Sheila  drove  away  from  the  house  at  two 
in  the  morning  she  declared  to  her  husband  that  she  had  en- 
joyed herself  extremely,  and  he  was  glad  to  hear  it;  and  she 
was  particularly  kind  to  himself  in  getting  him  his  slippers, 
and  fetching  him  that  final  cigarette  which  he  always  had  on 


2l6  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

reaching  home;  and  then  she  went  off  to  bed  to  dream  ot 
ships  and  flying  clouds  and  cold  winds,  and  a  great  and 
beautiful  blue  plain  of  waves. 


PART   VII. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DEEPER     AND      DEEPER. 

Next  morning  Sheila  was  busy  with  her  preparations  for 
departure,  when  she  heard  a  hansom  drive  up.  She  looked 
out  and  saw  Mr.  Ingram  step  out;  and  before  he  had  time  to 
cross  the  pavement  she  had  run  around  and  opentd  the  door, 
and  stood  at  the  top  of  the  steps  to  receive  him.  How  often 
had  her  husband  cautioned  her  not  to  forget  herself  in  this 
monstrous  fashion! 

"  Do  you  think  I  had  run  away?  Have  you  come  to  see 
me?"  she  said,  with  a  bright,  roseate  gladness  on  her  face, 
which  reminded  him  of  many  a  pleasant  morning  in  Borva. 

"I  did  not  think  you  had  run  away,  for,  you  see,  I  have 
brought  you  some  flowers;"  but  there  was  a  sort  of  blush  in 
the  sallow  face,  and  perhaps  the  girl  had  some  quick  fancy 
or  suspicion  that  he  had  brought  th  s  bouquet  to  prove  that 
he  knew  everything  was  right,  and  that  he  expeeted  to  see 
her.  It  was  only  a  part  of  nis  universal  kindness  and  thought- 
fulness,  she  considered. 

"Frank  is  up  stairs,"  she  said,  "getting  ready  some  things 
to  go  to  Brighton.  Will  you  come  into  the  breakfast-roora  ? 
Have  you  had  breakfast?" 

"Oh,  you  were  going  to  Brighton?'' 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  somehow  somethinir  moved  her  to 
add  quickly,  "but  not  for  long,  you  know.  Only  a  few  days. 
It  is  many  a  time  you  will  have  told  me  of  Brighton  long 
a%o  in  the  Lewis,  but  I  cannot  understand  a  large  town 
being  beside  the  sea,  and  it  will  be  a  great  surprise  to  me,  I 
am  .-u.i  c.f  that." 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  217 

"  Ay,  Sheila,"  he  said,  falling  into  the  old  habit  quite 
naturally,  "  you  will  find  it  different  from  Borvapost.  You 
will  have  no  scampering  about  the  rock,  with  your  head  bare 
and  your  hair  flying  about.  You  will  have  to  dress  more 
correctly  there  than  here  even ;  and,  by  the  way,  you  must 
be  busy  getting  ready;  so  I  will  go." 

*'  Oh,  no,"  sne  said,  with  a  quick  look  of  disappointment, 
"you  will  not  go  yet.  If  I  had  known  you  were  coming — 
but  it  was  very  late  when  we  got  home  this  morning;  two 
o'clock  it  was." 

''Another  ball?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  but  not  very  joyfully. 

"Why,  Sheila,"  he  said,  with  a  grave  smile  on  his  face, 
"you  are  becoming  quite  a  woman  of  fashion  now.  And  you 
know  I  can't  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with  a  fine  lady,  who 
goes  to  all  these  grand  places,  and  knows  all  sorts  of  swell 
people;  so  you'll  have  to  cut  me,  Sheila." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  dead  before  that  time  ever  comes," 
said  the  girl,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  indignation  in  her  eyes. 
Then  she  softened:  "But  it  is  not  kind  for  you  to  laugh  at 
me." 

"  Of  course  I  did  not  laugh  at  you,"  he  said,  taking  both 
her  hands  in  his,  "  although  I  used  to  sometimes  when  you 
were  a  little  girl  and  talked  very  wild  English.  Don't  you 
remember  how  vexed  you  used  to  be,  and  how  pleased  you 
were  when  your  papa  turned  the  laugh  against  me  by  getting 
me  to  say  that  awful  Gaelic  sentence  about  '•'  A  young  calf 
ate  a  raw  egg !" 

"  Can  you  say  it  now?"  said  Sheila,  with  her  face  getting 
bright  and  pleased  again.     "Try  it  after  me.     Now  listen." 

She  uttered  some  half  dozen  of  the  most  extraordinary 
sounds  that  any  language  ever  contained,  but  Ingram  would 
not  attempt  to  follow  her.  She  reproached  him  with  having 
forgotten  all  that  he  had  learnt  in  Lewis,  and  said  she  should 
no  longer  look  on  him  as  a  possible  Highlander. 

"  But  what  SLvejou  now?"  he  asked.  "You  are  no  longer 
that  wild  girl  who  used  to  run  out  to  sea  in  the  Maighdean- 
mhara  whenever  there  was  the  excitement  of  a  storm  coming 
on." 

"Many  times," she  said,  slowly  and  wistfully,  "  I  will  wish 
that  I  could  be  that  again  for  a  little  while." 

"  Don't  you  enjoy,  then,  all  those  fine  gatherings  you 
go  to  ?" 


2l8  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

=  'I  try  to  like  them." 

"And  you  don't  succeed  ?" 

He  was  looking  at  her  gravely  and  earnestly,  and  she 
turned  away  her  head  and  did  not  answer.  At  this  moment 
Lavender  came  down  stairs  and  entered  the  room. 

"  Halloo,  Ingram,  my  boy  !  glad  to  see  you  !  What 
pretty  flowers  !  It's  a  pity  we  can't  take  them  to  Brighton 
with  us." 

"  But  I  intend  to  take  them,"  said  Sheila,  firmly. 

"  Oh,  very  Vi^ell,  if  you  don't  mind  the  bother,"  said  her 
husband.  "  I  should  have  thought  your  hands  would  have 
been  full;  you  know  you'll  have  to  take  everything  with  you 
you  would  want  in  London.  You  will  find  that  Brighton 
isn't  a  dirty  little  fishing-village  in  which  you've  only  to  tuck 
up  your  dress  and  run  about  anyhow," 

"  I  never  saw  a  dirty  little  fishing-village,"  said  Sheila," 
quietly. 

Her  husband  laughed:  "I  meant  no  offense.  I  was  not 
thinking  of  Borvapost  at  all.  Well,  Ingram,  can't  you  run 
down  and  see  us  while  we  are  at  Brighton  ?" 

"  Oh,  do,  Mr.  Ingram?"  said  Sheila,  with  quite  a  new  in- 
terest in  her  face;  and  she  came  forward  as  though  she  would 
have  gone  down  on  her  knees  and  begged  this  great  favor  of 
him.  "  Do  Mr.  Ingram  !  We  should  try  to  amuse  you 
some  way,  and  the  weather  is  sure  to  be  fine.  Shall  we  keep 
a  room  for  you  ?  Can  you  come  on  Friday  and  stay  till 
Monday?  It  is  a  great  difference  there  will  be  in  the  place  if 
you  come  down." 

Ingram  looked  at  Sheila,  and  was  on  the  point  of  prom- 
ising, when  Lavender  added:  "And  we  shall  introduce  you 
to  that  young  American  lady  whom  you  are  so  anxious  to 
meet." 

"  Oh,  is  she  to  be  there?"  he  said, looking  rather  curiously 
at  Lavender. 

"Yes,  and  her  mother.     We  are  going  down  together." 

"Then  I'll  see  whether  I  can  in  a  day  or  two,"  he  said, 
but  in  a  tone  which  pretty  nearly  convinced  Sheila  that  she 
should  not  have  her  stay  at  Brighton  made  pleasant  by  the 
company  of  her  old  friend  and  associate. 

However,  the  mere  anticipation  of  seeing  the  sea  was 
much;  and  when  they  had  got  into  a  cab  and  were  going 
down  to  Victoria  Station,  Sheila's  eyes  were  filled  with  a 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  ZIC, 

joyful  anticipation.  She  had  discarded  altogether  the  de- 
scriptions of  Brighton  that  had  been  given  her.  It  is  one 
thing  to  receive  information,  and  another  to  reproduce  it  in 
an  imaginative  picture;  and  in  fact  her  imagination  was 
busy  with  its  own  work  while  she  sat  and  listened  to  this 
person  or  the  other  speaking  of  the  seaside  town  she  was 
going  to.  When  they  spoke  of  promenades  and  drives  and 
milfis  of  hotels  and  lodging  houses,  she  was  thinking  of  the 
sea-beach  and  of  the  boats  and  of  the  sky-line  with  its  dis- 
tant ships.  When  they  told  her  of  private  theatricals  and 
concerts  and  fancy-dress  balls,  she  was  thinking  of  being  out 
on  the  open  sea,  with  a  light  breeze  filling  the  sails,  and  a 
curl  of  white  foam  rising  at  the  bow  and  sweeping  and  hiss- 
ing down  the  sides  of  the  boat.  She  would  go  down  among 
the  fishermen  when  her  husband  and  his  friends  were  not 
by,  and  talk  to  them,  and  get  to  know  what  they  sold  their 
fish  for  down  here  in  the  South.  She  would  find  out  what 
their  nets  cost,  and  if  there  was  anybody  in  authority  to 
whom  they  could  apply  for  an  advance  of  a  few  pounds  in 
case  of  hard  times.  Had  they  their  cuttings  of  peat  free  from 
the  nearest  mossland  ?  and  did  they  dress  their  fields  with 
the  thatch  that  had  got  saturated  with  the  smoke  ?  Perhaps 
some  of  them  could  tell  her  where  the  crews  hailed  from 
that  had  repeatedly  shot  the  sheep  of  the  Flannen  Isles. 
All  these  and  a  hundred  other  things  she  would  get  to  know; 
and  she  might  procure  and  send  to  her  father  some  rare 
bird  or  curiosity  of  the  sea,  that  might  be  added  to  the  little 
museum  in  which  she  used  to  sing  m  days  gone  by,  when  he 
was  busy  with  his  pipe  and  his  whisky. 

**  You  are  not  much  tired,  then,  by  your  dissipation  of 
last  night  ?  '  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh  to  her  at  the  station,  as  the 
slender,  fair-haired,  grave  lady  looked  admiringly  at  the 
girl's  fresh  color  and  bright  gray-blue  eyes.  "It  makes  one 
envy  you  to  see  you  looking  so  strong  and  in  such  good 
spirits." 

"How  happy  you  must  be  always!"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine; 
and  the  younger  lady  had  the  same  sweet,  low  and  kindly 
voice  as  her  mother. 

"I  am  very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Sheila,  blushing  some- 
what, and  not  lifting  her  eyes,  while  Lavender  was  impatient 
that  she  had  not  answered  with  a  laugh  and  some  light  retort, 
such  as  would  have  occurred  to  almost  any  woman  in  the  cir 
cumstances. 


2  20  A    PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

On  the  journey  down,  Lavender  and  Mrs.  Lorraine,  seated 
opposite  each  other  in  two  corner  seats,  kept  up  a  continual 
cross-fire  of  sjmall  pleasantries,  in  which  the  young  American 
lady  had  distinctly  the  best  of  it,  chiefly  by  reason  of  her 
perfeci:  manner.  The  keenest  thing  she  said  was  said  with  a 
look  of  great  innocence  and  candor  in  the  large  gray  eyes; 
and  then  directly  afterward  she  would  say  something  very 
nice  and  pleasant  in  precisely  the  same  voice,  as  if  she  could 
not  understand  that  there  was  any  effort  on  the  part  of  either 
to  assume  an  advantage.  The  mother  sometimes  turned  and 
listened  to  this  aimless  talk  with  an  amused  gravity,  as  of  a 
cat  watching  the  gambols  of  a  kitten,  but  generally  she  de- 
voted herself  to  Sheila,  who  sat  opposite  her.  She  did  not 
talk  much,  and  Sheila  was  glad  of  that,  but  the  girl  felt  that 
she  was  being  observed  with  some  little  curiosity.  She 
wished  that  Mrs.  Kavanagh  would  turn  those  observant  gray 
eyes  of  hers  away  in  some  other  direction.  Now  and  again 
Sheila  would  point  out  what  she  considered  strange  or 
striking  in  the  country  outside,  and  for  a  moment  the  elderly 
lady  would  look  out.  But  directly  afterward  the  gray  eyes 
would  come  back  to  Sheila,  and  the  girl  knew  they  were  upon 
her. 

At  last  she  so  persistently  stared  out  of  the  window  that 
she  fell  to  dreaming,  and  all  the  trees  and  the  meadows  and 
the  farm-houses  and  the  distant  heights  and  hollows  went 
past  her  as  though  they  were  in  a  sort  of  mist,  while  she  replied 
to  Mrs.  Kavanagli's  chance  remarks  in  a  mechanical  fashion, 
and  could  only  hear  as  a  monotonous  murmur  the  talk  of  the 
two  people  at  the  other  side  of  the  carriage.  How  much  of 
the  journey  did  she  remember  ?  She  was  greatly  struck  by  the 
amount  of  open  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  London — the 
commons  between  Wandsworth  and  Stieatham,  and  so  forth 
— and  she  was  pleased  with  the  appearance  ot  the  country 
about  Red  Hill.  For  the  rest,  a  succession  of  fair  green  pic- 
tures passed  by  her,  r,li  bathed  in  a  calm,  half-misty  Summer 
sunlight;  then  they  pierced  the  chalk-hills  (which  Sheila,  at 
first  sight,  fancied  were  of  granite)  and  rambled  threugh  the 
tunnels.  Finally,  with  just  a  glimpse  of  a  great  mass  of 
gray  houses  filling  a  vast  hollow  and  stretching  up  the  bare 
green  downs  beyond,  they  found  themselves  in  Brighton. 

"  Well,  Sheila,  what  do  you  think  of  the  place  ?'  her  hus- 
band said  to  her  with  a  laugh  as  they  were  driving  down  the 
Queen's  road. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULK.  22  1 

She  did  not  answer. 

**  It  is  not  like  Borvapost,  is  it  ?" 

She  was  too  bewildered  to  speak.  '  She  could  only  look 
about  her  with  a  vague  wonder  and  disappointment.  But 
surely  this  great  city  Avas  not  the  place  they  had  come  to  live 
in  ?  Would  it  not  disappear  somehow,  and  they  would  get 
away  to  the  sea  and  the  rocks  and  the  boats  ? 

They  passed  into  the  upper  part  of  West  Street,  and  here 
was  another  thoroughfare,  down  to  which  Sheila  glanced  with 
no  great  interest.  But  the  next  moment  there  was  a  quick 
catching  of  her  breath,  which  almost  resembled  a  sob,  and 
a  strange  glad  light  sprang  into  her  eyes.  Here,  at  last,  was 
the  sea!  Away  beyond  the  narrow  thoroughfare  she  could 
catch  a  glimpse  of  a  great  green  plain — yellow-green  it  was  in 
the  sunlight — that  the  wind  was  whitening  here  and  there 
with  tumbling  waves.  She  had  not  noticed  that  there  was 
any  wind  in-land — there  everything  seemed  asleep — but  here 
there  was  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  South,  and  the  sea  had  been 
rough  the  day  before,  and  now  it  was  of  this  strange  olive 
color,  streaked  with  the  white  curls  of  foam  that  shone  in  the 
sunlight.  Was  there  not  a  cold  scent  of  sea-weed,  too,  blown 
up  this  narrow  passage  between  the  houses  ? 

And  now  the  carriage  cut  around  the  corner  and  whirled 
out  into  the  glare  of  the  Parade,  and  before  her  the  great  sea 
stretched  out  its  leagues  of  tumbling  and  shining  waves,  and 
she  heard  the  water  roaring  along  the  beach,  and  far  away 
at  the  horizon  she  saw  a  phantom  ship.  She  did  not  even 
look  at  the  row  of  splendid  hotels  and  houses,  at  the  gayly- 
dressed  folks  on  the  pavement,  at  the  brilliant  flags  tha.  were 
flapping  and  fluttering  on  the  New  Pier  and  about  the  beach. 
It  was  the  great  world  of  shining  water  beyond  that  fascin- 
ated her,  and  awoke  in  her  a  strange  yearning  and  longing, 
so  that  she  did  not  know  whether  it  was  grief  or  joy  that 
burned  in  her  heart  and  blinded  her  eyes  with  tears.  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  took  her  arm  as  they  were  going  up  the  steps  of 
the  hotel,  and  caid  in  a  friendly  way,  "  I  suppose  you  have 
some  sad  memories  of  the  sea  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Sheila,  bravely,  "  it  is  always  pleasant  to  me 
to  think  of  the  sea;  but  it  is  a  long  time  since — since — " 

"Sheila,"  said  her  husband,  abruptly,  "  do  tell  me  if  all 
your  things  are  here;"  and  then  the  girl  turned,  calm  and 
self-collected,  to  look  after  rugs  and  boxes. 


V2  2  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

When  they  were  finally  established  in  the  hotel,  Lavender 
went  off  to  negotiate  for  the  hire  of  a  carriage  for  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  during  her  stay,  and  Sheila  was  left  with  the  two 
ladies.  They  had  tea  in  their  sitting-room,  and  they  had  it 
at  one  of  the  windows,  so  that  they  could  look  out  on  the 
stream  of  people  and  carriages  now  beginning  to  flow  by  in 
the  clear  yellow  light  of  the  afternoon.  But  neither  the 
people  nor  the  carriages  had  much  interest  for  Sheila,  who, 
indeed,  sat  for  the  most  part  silent,  intently  watching  the 
various  boats  that  were  putting  out  or  coming  in,  and  busy 
with  conjectures  which  she  knew  there  was  no  use  placing 
before  her  two  companions. 

"  Brighton  seems  to  surprise  you  very  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Lorraine. 

"Yes,"  said  Sheila,  "I  have  been  told  all  about  it,  but 
you  will  forget  all  that;  and  this  is  very  different  from  the 
sea  at  home — at  my  home." 

"  Your  home  is  in  London  now,"  said  the  elder  lady,  with 
a  smile. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Sheila,  most  anxiously  and  earnestly. 
"  London,  that  is  not  our  home  at  all.  We  live  there  for  a 
time — that  will  be  quite  necessary — but  we  shall  go  back  to 
the  Lewis  some  day  soon — not  to  stay  altogether,  but  enough 
to  make  it  as  n  uch  our  home  as  London." 

"  How  do  you  think  Mr.  Lavender  will  enjoy  living  in  the 
Hebrides?"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  with  a  look  of  innocent  and 
friendly  inquiry  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  was  many  a  time  that  he  has  said  he  never  liked  any 
place  so  much,"  said  Sheila  with  something  of  a  blush ;  and 
then  she  added  with  growing  courage,  "  for  you  must  not 
think  he  is  always  like  what  he  is  here.  Oh,  no  !  When  he 
is  in  the  Highlands  there  is  no  day  that  is  nearly  long 
enough  for  what  has  to  be  done  in  it ;  and  he  is  up  very 
early,  and  away  to  the  hills  or  the  loch  with  a  gun  or  a  sal- 
mon-rod. He  can  catch  the  salmon  very  well — oh,  very 
well  for  one  that  is  not  accustomed — and  he  will  shoot  as 
well  as  any  one  that  is  in  the  island,  except  my  papa.  It  is  a 
great  deal  to  do  there  will  be  in  the  island,  and  plenty  of 
amusement;  and  there  is  not  much  chance — not  any  what- 
ever— of  his  being  lonely  or  tired  when  we  go  to  live  in  the 
Lev/is." 

Mrs.  Kavanagh  and  her  daughter  were  both  amused  and 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  223 

pleased  by  the  earnest  and  rapid  fashion  in  which  Sheila 
talked.  They  had  generally  considered  her  to  be  a  trifle  shy 
and  silent,  not  knowing  how  afraid  she  was  of  using  wrong 
idioms  or  pronunciations  ;  but  here  was  one  subject  on 
which  her  heart  was  set,  and  she  had  no  more  thought  as  to 
whether  she  said  like-a  ness  or  likeness,  or  whether  she  said 
gyarden  or  garden.  Indeed,  she  forgot  more  than  that.  She 
was  somewhat  excited  by  the  presence  of  the  sea  and  the 
well-remembered  sound  of  the  waves  ;  and  she  was  pleased 
to  talk  about  her  life  in  the  North,  and  about  her  husband's 
stay  there,  and  how  they  should  pass  the  time  when  she  re- 
turned to  Borva.  She  neglected  altogether  Lavender's  in- 
structions that  she  should  not  talk  about  fishing  or  cooking 
or  farming  to  his  friends.  She  incidentally  revealed  to  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  and  her  daughter  a  great  deal  more  about  the 
household  at  Borva  than  he  would  have  wished  to  be  known. 
For  how  could  they  understand  about  his  wife  having  her 
own  cousin  to  serve  at  table  ?  And  what  would  they  think 
of  a  young  lady  who  was  proud  of  making  her  father's 
shirts?  Whatever  these  two  ladies  may  have  thought,  they 
were  very  obviously  interested,  and  if  they  were  amused,  it 
was  in  a  far  from  unfriendly  fashion.  Mrs.  Lorraine  pro- 
fessed herself  quite  charmed  with  Sheila's  descriptions  of  her 
island-life,  and  wished  she  could  go  up  to  Lewis  to  see  all 
these  strange  things.  But  when  she  spoke  of  visiting  the 
island  when  Sheila  and  her  husband  were  staying  there. 
Sheila  w.^s  not  nearly  so  ready  to  offer  her  a  welcome  as  the 
daughter  ot  a  hospitable  old  Highland  man  ought  to  have 
been. 

**  And  will  you  go  out  in  a  boat  now?"  said  Sheila,  looking 
down  to  the  beach. 

"In  a  boat!     What  fort  of  a  boat  ?"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh. 

"  Any  of  those  litHe  sailing  boats;  it  is  very  good  they  are, 
as  far  as  I  can  see.'' 

'*No,  thank  you,"  sa-d  the  elder  lady, -with  a  smile,  "I 
am  not  fond  of  small  boa«^s,  and  the  company  of  the  men 
who  go  with  you  might  be  a  tittle  objeciionable.  I  should 
fancy. 

"  But  you  need  not  take  any  p^en,"  said  Sheila ;  "  the  sail- 
ing of  one  of  those  little  boats,  it  is  very  simole." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  could  m^mage  the  boat  bv  your- 
w'lf?" 


224  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE, 

•*  Oh  yes  1  It  is  very  simple.  And  my  husband  he  will 
help  me." 

"And  what  would  you  do  if  you  went  out?  " 

"We  might  try  the  fishing.  I  do  not  see  wh^re  the  rocks 
are,  but  we  would  go  off  to  the  rocks  and  put  down  the 
anchor  and  try  the  lines.  You  would  have  some  ferry  good 
fish  for  breakfast  in  the  morning." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  "  you  don't  know 
what  you  propose  to  us.  To  go  and  roll  about  in  an  open 
boat  in  these  waves — we  should  be  ill  in  five  minutes.  But  I 
suppose  you  don't  know  what  seasickness  is?" 

"No,"  said  Sheila,  "  but  I  will  hear  my  husband  speak  of 
it  often.  And  it  is  only  in  crossing  the  Channel  that  people 
will  get  sick." 

"Why,  this  is  the  Channel." 

Sheila  stared.  Then  she  endeavored  to  recall  her  geo- 
graphy. Of  course,  this  must  be  a  part  of  the  Channel,  but 
if  the  people  in  the  South  became  ill  in  this  weather,  they 
must  be  feeble  creatures.  Her  speculations  on  this  point 
were  cut  short  by  the  entrance  of  her  husband,  vi'ho  came  to 
announce  that  he  had  not  only  secured  a  carriage  for  a 
month,  but  that  it  would  be  around  at  the  hotel  door  in  half 
an  hour;  whereupon  the  two  American  ladies  said  they  would 
be  ready,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Now  go  off  and  get  dressed,  Sheila,"  said  Lavender. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute. 

"If  you  wouldn't  mind,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation— "  if  you  would  allow  me  to  go  by  myself — if  you 
would  go  to  the  driving,  and  let  me  go  down  to  the  shore  !" 

"  Oh,  nonsense!"  he  said.  "  Ycu  will  have  people  fancy- 
ing yon  are  only  a  school-girl.  How  can  you  go  down  to 
the  beach  by  yourself  among  all  those  loafing  vagabonds, 
who  would  pick  your  pockets  or  throw  stones  at  you  ?  You 
must  behave  like  an  ordinary  Christian.  Now  do,  like  a 
good  girl,  get  dressed  and  submit  to  the  restraints  of  civil- 
ized life.     It  won't  hurt  you  much." 

So  she  left,  to  lay  aside,  with  some  regret,  her  rough  blue 
dress,  and  he  went  down-stairs  to  see  about  ordering  dinner. 

Had  she  come  down  to  the  sea,  then,  only  to  live  the  life 
that  had  nearly  broken  her  heart  in  London?  It  seemed  so. 
They  drove  up  and  down  the  Parade  for  about  an  hour 
and  a  half,  and  the  roar  of  the  carriages  drowned  the  rush  of 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 


"5 


the  waves.  Then  they  dined  in  the  quiet  of  this  still  Sum- 
mer evening,  and  she  could  only  see  the  sea  as  a  distant  and 
silent  picture  through  the  windows,  while  the  talk  of  her  com- 
pinions  was  either  about  the  people  whom  they  had  seen 
while  driving,  or  about  matters  of  which  she  knew  nothing. 
Then  the  blmds  were  drawn  and  the  candles  lit,  and  still 
their  conversation  murmured  around  her  unheeding  ears. 
After  dinner,  ler  husband  went  down  to  the  smoking-room 
of  the  hotel  to  have  a  cigar,  and  she  was  left  with  Mrs.  Kav- 
anagh  and  h'  r  daughter.  She  went  to  the  window,  and 
looked  through  a  chink  in  the  Venetian  blinds.  There  was  a 
beautiful  clear  twilight  abroad,  the  darkness  still  of  a  soft 
gray,  and  up  in  the  pale  yellow-green  of  the  sky  a  large  planet 
burned  and  throbbed.  Soon  the  sea  and  the  sky  would 
darken,  the  stars  would  come  forth  in  thou-ands  and  tens  of 
thousands,  and  the  moving  water  would  be  struck  with  a 
million  trembling  spots  of  silver  as  the  waves  came  onward  to 
the  beach. 

"  Mayn't  we  go  out  for  a  walk  till  Frank  has  finished  his 
cigar?"  said  Sheila. 

"You  couldn't  go  out  walking  at  this  time  of  night,"  said 
Mrs.  Kavanagh,  in  a  kindly  way,  "  you  would  meet  the  most 
unpleasant  persons.  Besides  going  out  into  the  night  air 
would  be  most  dangerous," 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  night,"  said  Sheila,  with  a  sigh.  She 
was  still  standing  at  the  window. 

"  Come,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  going  over  to  her,  and 
putting  her  hand  in  her  arm,  "  we  cannot  have  any  moping, 
you  know.  \ou  must  be  content  to  be  dull  with  us  for  one 
n'ght;  and  after  to-night  we  shall  see  what  we  can  do  to 
amuse  y-  u." 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  amused!"  cried  Sheila,  al- 
most in  terror,  for  some  vision  flashed  on  her  mind  of  a  series 
of  parties.  "  I  would  much  rather  be  left  alone  and  allowed 
to  go  about  by  mj^st-lf.  But  it  is  very  kind  of  you,"  she 
hastily  added,  fancying  that  her  speech  had  been  somewhat 
ungracious — "  it  is  very  kmd  of  you,  indeed." 

"  Come,  I  promised  to  teach  you  cribbage,  didn't  I  ?" 

"  Yes,''  raid  Sheila,  with  much  resignation,  and  she  walked 
to  the  table,  and  sat  down. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  she  could  have  spent  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing with  some  little  equanimity  in  patiently  trying  to  learn 


2  26  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

this  game,  in  which  she  had  no  interest  whatever,  but  her 
thoughts  and  fancies  were  soon  drawn  away  from  cribbage. 
Her  husband  returned.  Mr.-.  Lorraine  had  been  for  some 
little  time  at  the  big  piano  at  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
amusing  herself  by  playing  snatches  of  anything  she  hap- 
pened to  remember,  but  when  Mr.  Lavender  returned  she 
seemed  to  wake  up.  He  went  over  to  her,  and  sat  down  by 
the  piano. 

"  Here,"  she  said,  "I  have  all  the  duets  and  songs  you 
spoke  of,  and  I  am  quite  delighted  with  those  I  have  tried. 
I  wish  mamma  would  sing  a  second  to  me;  how  can  one  learn 
without  practising  ?  And  there  are  some  of  those  duets  I 
really  should  like  to  learn  after  what  you  have  said  of  them." 

"  Shall  I  become  a  substitute  f  r  your  mamma?  '  he  said. 

"And  sing  the  second,  so  that  I  may  practise?  Your 
cigar  must  have  left  you  in  a  very  amiable  mood." 

""Well,  suppose  we  try,"  he  said;  and  he  proceeded  to 
open  out  the  roll  of  music  which  she  had  brought  down. 

"Which  shall  we  take  first?''  he  asked. 

"It  does  not  much  matter,"  she  answered,  indifferently, 
and  indeed  she  took  up  one  of  the  duets  at  haphazard. 

What  was  it  made  Mrs.  Kavanagh's  companion  suddenly 
lift  her  eyes  from  the  cribbage-board  and  look  with  surprise 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  She  had  recognized  the  little 
prelude  to  one  of  her  own  duets,  and  it  was  being  played  by 
Mrs.  Lorraine.  And  it  was  Mrs.  Lorraine  who  began  to  sing 
in  a  sweet,  expressive  and  well-trained  voice  of  no  great 
power — 

Love  in  thine  eyes  forever  plays; 

and  it  was  she  to  whom  the  answer  was  given — 

He  in  thy  snowy  bosom  strays; 

and  then  Sheila,  sitting  stupefied  and  pained  and  confused, 
heard  them  sing  together — 

He  makes  thy  rosy  lips  his  care, 
And  walks  the  mazes  of  thy  hair. 

She  had  not  heard  the  short  conversation  which  had  intro- 
duced this  music  ;  and  she  could  not  tell  but  that  her  hus- 
band had  been  practising  these  duets — her  duets — with  some 
one  else.     For  presently   they  sang  "  When  the  rosy  morn 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 


227 


appearing,"  and  "I  would  that  my  love  could  silently,"  and 
others,  all  of  them,  in  Sheila's  eyes,  sacred  to  the  time  when 
she  and  Lavender  used  to  sit  in  the  little  room  in  Borva.  It 
was  no  consolation  to  her  that  Mrs,  Lorraine  had  but  an  im- 
perfect acquaintance  with  them;  that  oftentimes  she  stumbled 
and  went  back  over  a  bit  of  the  accompaniment  ;  that  her 
voice  was  far  from  being  striking.  Lavender,  at  all  events, 
seemed  to  heed  none  of  these  things.  It  was  not  as  a  music 
master  that  he  sang  with  her.  He  put  as  much  expression  of 
love  into  his  voice  as  ever  he  had  done  in  the  old  days  when 
he  sang  with  his  future  bride.  And  it  seemed  so  cruel  that 
this  woman  should  have  taken  Sheila's  own  duets  from  her  to 
sing  before  her  with  her  own  husband. 

Sheila  learnt  little  more  cribbage  that  evening.  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  could  not  understand  how  her  pupil  had  become 
embarrassed,  inattentive,  and  even  sad,  and  a^ked  her  if  she 
was  tired.  Shiela  said  she  was  very  tired  and  would  go. 
And  when  she  got  her  candle,  Mrs.  Lorraine  and  Lavender 
had  just  discovered  another  duet,  which  they  felt  bound  to 
try  together  as  the  last. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  been  more  or  less  vaguely 
pained  by  her  husband's  attentions  to  this  young  American 
lady;  and  yet  she  would  not  admit  to  herselfthat  he  wasany 
in  the  wrong.  She  would  entertain  no  suspicion  of  him. 
She  would  have  no  jealousy  in  her  heart,  for  how  could  jeal- 
ousy exist  with  a  perfect  faith  ?  And  so  she  had  repeatedly 
reasoned  herself  out  of  these  tentative  feelings,  and  resolved 
that  she  would  do  neither  her  husband  nor  Mrs.  Lorraine  the 
injustice  of  being  vexed  with  them.  So  it  was  now.  What 
more  natural  than  that  Frank  should  recommend  to  any  one 
the  duets  of  which  he  was  particularly  fond?  What  more 
natural  than  that  this  young  lady  should  wish  to  show  her 
appreciation  of  those  songs  by  singing  them  ?  and  who  was 
to  sing  with  her  but  he  ?  Sheila  wjuid  have  no  suspicion  of 
either;  and  so  she  came  down  next  morning  determined  to 
be  very  friendly  with  Mrs.  Lorraine. 

But  that  forenoon  another  thing  occurred  which  nearly 
broke  down  all  her  resolves. 

"Sheila,"  said  her  husband,  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  asked 
you  whether  you  rode  ?" 

"  I  used  to  ride  many  times  at  home,''  she  said. 

"But  I   suppose  you'd  rather  not  ride   here,"   he  said. 


aaS  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

"Mrs.  Lorraine  and  I  propose  to  go  out  presently;  you'll  be 
able  to  amuse  yourself  somehow  till  we  come  back." 

Mrs.  Lorraine  had  indeed  gone  to  put  on  her  habit,  and  her 
mother  was  with  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  go  out,"  said  Sheila.  "  It  is  so  very  dull 
indoors,  and  Mrs.  Kavanagh  is  afraid  of  the  East  wind,  and 
she  is  not  going  out." 

"Well,  there's  no  harm  about  your  goino^  out,"  answered 
Lavender,  "  but  I  should  have  thought  you'd  have  liked  the 
comfort  of  watching  the  people  pass,  from  the  window.'' 

She  said  nothing,  but  went  off  to  her  own  room  and 
dressed  to  go  out.  Why,  she  knew  not,  but  she  felt  that  she 
would  rather  not  see  her  husband  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  start 
from  the  hotel-door.  She  stole  down-stairs  without  going 
into  the  sitting-room,  and  then,  going  through  the  great  hall 
and  down  the  steps,  found  herself  free  and  alone  in  Brighton. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  bright,  clear  day,  though  the  wind  was 
a  trifle  chilly,  and  all  around  her  there  was  a  sense  of  space 
and  light  and  motion  in  the  shining  skies,  the  far  clouds  and 
the  heaving  and  noisy  sea.  Yet  she  had  none  of  the  glad- 
ness of  heart  with  which  she  used  to  rush  out  of  the  house 
at  Borva  to  drink  in  the  fresh,  salt  air,  and  feel  the  sunlight 
on  her  cheeks.  She  walked  away,  with  her  face  wistful  and 
pensive,  along  the  King's  road,  scarcely  seeing  any  of  the 
people  who  passed  her;  and  the  noise  of  the  crowd  and  of 
the  waves  hummed  in  her  ears  in  a  distant  fashion,  even  as  she 
walked  along  the  wooden  railing  over  the  beach.  She  stopped 
and  watched  some  men  putting  off  a  heavy  fishing-boat,  and 
she  still  stood  and  looked  long  after  the  boat  was  launched. 
She  would  not  confess  to  herself  that  she  felt  1  ne'.y  and  mis- 
erable; it  was  the  sight  of  the  sea  that  was  melancholy.  It 
seemed  so  different  from  the  sea  off  Borva,  that  had  always 
to  her  a  familiar  and  friendly  look,  even  when  it  was  raging 
and  rushing  before  a  Southwest  wind.  Here  this  sea  looked 
vast  and  calm  and  sad,  and  the  sound  of  it  was  not  pleasant 
to  her  ears,  as  was  the  sound  of  the  waves  on  the  rocks  at 
Borva.  She  walked  on,  in  a  blind  and  unthinking  fashion, 
until  she  had  got  far  up  the  Parade,  and  could  see  the  long 
line  of  monotonous  white  cliff  meeting  the  dull  blue  plain  of 
the  waves  until  both  disappeared  in  the  horizon. 

She  returned  to  the  King's  road  a  trifle  tired,  and  sat  down 
on  one  of  the  benches  there.     The  passing  of  the  people 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  229 

would  amuse  her;  and  now  the  pavement  was  thronged  with  a 
crowd  of  gayly-dressed  folks,  and  the  centre  of  the  thorough- 
fare brisk  with  the  constant  going  and  coming  of  riders. 
She  saw  strange  old  women  painied,  powdered  and  bewigged 
in  hideous  imitation  of  youth,  pounding  up  and  down  the 
level  street,  and  she  wondered  what  wild  hallucinations  pos- 
sessed the  brains  of  these  poor  creatures.  She  saw  troops 
of  beautiful  young  girls,  with  flowing  hair,  clear  eyes  and 
bright  complexions,  riding  by,  a  goodly  company,  under 
charge  of  a  riding-mistress,  and  the  world  seemed  to  grow 
sweeter  when  they  came  into  view.  But  while  she  was 
vaguely  gazing  and  wondering  and  speculating,  her  eyes  w^ere 
suddenly  caught  by  two  riders  whose  appearance  sent  a 
throb  to  her  heart.  Frank  Lavender  rode  well,  so  did  Mrs. 
Lorraine;  and,  thougii  they  were  paying  no  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  crowd  of  passers-by,  they  doubtless  know  that 
they  could  challenge  criticism  with  an  easy  confidence.  They 
were  laughing  and  talking  to  each  other  as  they  went  rapidly 
by;  neither  of  them  saw  Sheila.  The  girl  did  not  look  after 
them.  She  rose  and  walked  in  the  other  direction,  with  a 
greater  pain  at  her  heart  than  had  been  there  for  many  a 
day. 

What  was  this  crowd?  Some  dozen  or  so  of  people  were 
standing  around  a  small  girl,  who,  accompanied  by  a  man, 
was  playing  a  violin,  and  playing  it  very  well,  too.  But  it 
was  not  the  music  that  attracted  Shei'a  to  the  child,  but 
partly  that  there  was  a  look  about  the  timid,  pretty  face 
and  modest  and  honest  eyes  that  reminded  her  of  littie  Ailasa, 
and  partly  because,  just  at  this  moment,  her  heart  seemed  to 
be  strangely  sensitive  and  sympathetic.  She  took  no  thought 
of  the  people  looking  on.  She  went  forward  to  the  edge  of 
the  pavement,  and  found  that  the  small  girl  and  her  com- 
paniv)n  were  about  to  go  away.     Sheila  stopped  the  man. 

"  Will  you  let  your  litde  girl  come  with  me  into  this 
shop  ?" 

It  was  a  confectioner's  shop. 

"We  were  going  home  to  dinner,"  said  the  man,  while  the 
small  girl  looked  up  with  wondering  eyes. 

"  Will  you  let  her  have  dinner  with  me,  and  you  will  come 
back  in  a  half  an  hour  ?  " 

The  man  looked  at  the  little  girl;  he  seemed  to  be  really 
fond  of  her,  and  saw  that  she  was.  very  willing  to  go.     Sheila 


230  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

took  her  hand  and  led  her  into  the  confectioner's  shop,  put- 
ting her  violin  on  one  of  the  small  marble  tables  while  tliey 
sat  down  at  another.  She  was  probably  nut  aware  that  two 
or  three  idlers  had  followed  them,  and  were  staring  with 
might  and  main  in  at  the  door  of  the  shop. 
•  What  could  this  child  have  thought  of  the  beautiful  and 
yet  sad-eyed  lady  who  was  so  kind  to  her,  who  got  her  all 
sorts  of  things  with  her  own  hands  and  asked  her  all  manner 
of  questions  in  a  low,  gentle  and  sweet  voice?  There  was 
not  much  in  Sheila's  appearance  to  provoke  fear  or  awe.  The 
little  girl,  shy  at  first,  got  to  be  a  Httle  more  frank,  and  told 
her  hostess  when  she  rose  in  the  morning,  how  she  practised, 
the  number  of  hours  they  were  out  during  the  day,  and  many 
of  the  small  inciden's  of  her  daily  life.  She  had  been  pho- 
tographed, too,  and  her  photograph  was  sold  in  one  of  the 
shops.  She  was  very  vi^ell  content;  she  liked  playing,  the 
people  were  kind  to  her,  and  she  did  not  often  get  tired. 

"  Then  I  shall  see  you  often  if  I  stay  in  Brighton  ?  '  said 
Sheila. 

"  We  go  out  every  day  when  it  does  not  rain  very  hard," 

♦'Perhaps  some  wet  day  you  will  come  and  see  me,  and 
you  will  have  some  tea  with  me;  would  you  like  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  very  much,"  said  the  small  musician,  looking  up 
frankly. 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  half  hour  having  fully  expired, 
the  man  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Don't  hurry,"  said  Sheila  to  the  little  girl;  "sit  still 
and  drink  out  the  lemonade,  then  I  will  give  you  some  little 
parcels  which  you  must  put  in  your  pockel." 

She  was  about  to  rise  to  go  to  the  counter  when  she  sud- 
denly met  the  eyes  of  her  husband,  who  was  calmly  staring 
athtr.  He  had  come  out,  after  their  ride,  with  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine to  have  a  stroll  up  and  down  the  pavements,  and  had, 
in  looking  in  at  the  various  shops,  caught  sight  of  Sheila 
quietly  having  luncheon  with  this  girl  whom  she  had  picked 
up  in  the  streets. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  like  of  that?"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine. "  In  open  day,  with  people  staring  in,  and  she  has 
not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  put  the  violin  out  of  sight!"' 

**  The  poor  child  means  no  harm,"  said  his  companion. 

"Well,  we  must  get  her  out  of  this  somehow,"  he  said; 
a^d  so  they  entered  the  shep. 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 


'■3^ 


Sheila,  knew  she  was  guilty  the  moment  she  met  her  hus- 
band's look,  though  she  had  never  dreamed  of  it  before. 
She  had,  indeed,  acted  quite  thoughtlessly — perhaps  chiefly 
moved  by  a  desire  to  speak  to  some  one  and  to  befriend 
some  one  in  her  own  loneliness. 

"  Hadn't  you  belter  let  this  little  girl  go?"  said  Lavender 
to  Sheila,  somewhat  coldly,  as  soon  as  he  had  ordered  an  ice 
[or  his  companion. 

"  When  she  has  finished  her  lemonade  she  will  go,"  said 
Sheila,  meekly.  "  But  I  have  to  buy  some  things  for  her, 
first." 

"  You  have  got  a  whole  lot  of  people  around  the  door,'' 
he  said. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  the  people  to  wait  for  her,"  answered 
Sheila,  with  the  same  composure.  "We  have  been  here 
half  an  hour.  I  suppose  they  will  like  her  music  very  much." 
The  litile  violinisie  was  now  taken  to  the  counter  and  her 
pockets  stuffed  with  packages  of  sugared  fruits  and  other 
deadly  delicacies;  then  she  was  permittted  to  go  with  half  a 
crown  in  her  hand.  Mrs.  Lorraine  patted  her  shoulder  in 
passing,  and  said  she  was  a  pretty  little  thing. 

They  went  home  to  luncheon.  Nothing  was  said  about 
the  incident  of  the  forenoon,  except  that  Lavender  com- 
plained to  Mrs.  Kavanagh  in  a  humorous  way,  that  his  wife 
had  a  most  extraordinary  fondness  for  beggars,  and  that  he 
never  went  home  of  an  evening  without  expecting  to  find 
her  dining  w^th  the  nearest  iicavenger  and  his  family.  Lav- 
ender, indeed,  was  in  an  amiable  frame  of  mind  at  the  meal 
(during  the  progress  of  which  Sheila  sat  by  the  window,  of 
course,  for  she  had  already  lunched  in  company  with  the 
tiny  violiniste),  and  was  btnt  on  making  himself  as  agreeable 
as  possible  to  his  two  companions.  Their  talk  had  drifted 
toward  the  wanderings  of  the  two  ladies  on  the  Continent; 
from  that  to  the  Niebelungeu  frescoes  in  Munich;  from  that 
to  the  Niebelungen  i  ^elf,  and  then  by  easy  transition  to  the 
ballads  of  Uhland  a'Ml  Heine.  Lavender  was  in  one  of  his 
most  impulsive  and  brilliant  moods — gay  and  jocular,  tender 
and  sympathilic  by  turn=?,  and  so  obvioubly  sincere  in  all 
that  his  listeners  were  delighted  with  his  speeches  and  asser- 
tions and  stories,  and  believed  them  as  implicitly  as  he  did 
himself. 

Sheila,  sitting  at  a  distance,  saw  and  heard,  and  could  not 


232  A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

help  recalling  many  an  evening  in  the  far  North  when  Lav- 
ender used  to  fascinate  every  one  around  him  by  the  infec- 
tion of  his  warm  and  poetic  enthusiasm.  How  he  talked, 
too — telling  the  stories  of  these  quaint  and  pathetic  ballads 
in  his  own  rough  and  ready  translations — while  there  was  no 
self-consciousness  in  his  face,  but  a  thorough  warmth  of 
earnestness;  and  sometimes,  too,  she  would  notice  a  quiver 
of  the  under  lip  that  she  knew  of  old,  when  some  pathetic 
point  or  phrase  had  to  be  indicated  rather  than  described. 
He  was  drawing  pictures  for  them  as  well  as  telling  stories — 
of  the  three  students  entering  the  room  in  which  the  land- 
lady's daughter  lay  dead — of  Barbarossa  in  his  cave — of  the 
child  who  used  to  look  up  at  Heine  as  he  passed  her  in  the 
street,  awe-stricken  by  his  pale  and  strange  face — of  the  last 
of  the  band  of  companions  who  sat  in  the  solitary  room  in 
which  they  had  sat,  and  drank  to  their  memory — of  the  King 
of  Thule,  and  the  deserter  from  Strasburg,  and  a  thousand 
others. 

"  But  is  there  any  of  them — is  there  anything  in  the 
world — more  pitiable  than  that  pilgrimage  to  Kevlaar?"  he 
said.  "You  know  it,  of  course.  No?  Oh,  you  must,  surely. 
Don't  you  remember  the  mother  who  stood  by  the  bedside 
of  her  sick  son,  and  asked  him  whether  he  would  not  rise  to 
see  the  great  procession  go  by  the  window;  and  he  tells  her 
that  he  cannot,  he  is  so  ill;  his  heart  is  breaking  for  thinking 
of  his  dead  Gretchen  ?  You  know  the  story.  Sheila.  The 
mother  begs  him  to  rise  and  come  with  her,  and  they  will 
join  the  band  of  pilgrims  going  to  Kevlaar,  to  be  healed 
there  of  their  wounds  by  the  Mother  of  God.  Then  you  find 
them  at  Kevlaar,  and  all  the  maimed  and  the  lame  people 
have  come  to  the  shrine;  and  whichever  limb  is  diseased, 
they  make  a  waxen  image  of  that  and  lay  it  on  the  altar,  and 
then  they  are  healed.  Well,  the  mother  of  this  poor  lad 
takes  wax  and  forms  a  heart  out  of  it,  and  says  to  her  son, 
*  Take  that  to  the  Mother  of  God,  and  she  will  heal  your 
pain.'  Sighing,  he  takes  the  wax  heart  in  his  hand,  and, 
sighing,  he  goes  to  the  shrine;  and  there,  with  tears  running 
down  his  face,  he  says:  *  O  beautiful  Queen  of  Heaven,  I  am 
come  to  tell  you  my  grief  I  lived  with  my  mother  in 
Cologne;  near  us  lived  Gretchen,  who  is  d.ad  nDW.  Blessed 
Mary,  I  bring  you  tliis  wax  heart,  heal  the  wound  in  my 
heart.'    And  then — and  then — " 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  233 

Sheila  saw  his  h*p  tremble.  But  he  frowned  and  said  im- 
patiently: "What  a  shame  it  is  to  destroy  such  a  beautiful 
Btory  !  You  can  have  no  idea  of  it — of  its  simplicity  and 
tenderness — '' 

"  But  pray  let  us  hear  the  rest  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine, 
gently. 

'•  Well,  the  last  scene,  you  know,  is  a  small  chamber,  and 
the  mother  and  her  sick  son  are  asleep.  The  Blessed  Mary 
glides  into  the  chamber  and  bends  over  the  young  man,  and 
puts  her  hand  lightly  on  h'S  heart.  Then  she  smiles  and 
disappears.  The  unhappy  mother  has  seen  all  this  in  a  dream, 
and  now  she  awakes,  for  the  dogs  are  barking  loudly.  The 
mother  goes  over  to  the  bed  of  her  son,  and  he  is  dead,  and 
the  morning  light  touches  his  pale  face.  And  then  the 
mother  folds  her  hands,  and  says — " 

He  rose  hastily  with  a  gesture  of  fretfulness,  and  walked 
over  to  the  window  at  which  Sheila  sat,  and  looked  out. 
She  put  her  hand  up  to  his;  he  took  it. 

"  The  next  time  I  try  to  translate  Heine,"  he  said,  making 
it  appear  that  he  had  broken  off  through  vexation,  "some- 
thing strange  will  happen." 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  story,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  who  had  her- 
self been  crying  a  little  bit  in  a  covered  way,  "  I  wonder  I 
have  not  seen  a  translation  of  it.  Come,  mamma.  Lady  Lev- 
eret said  we  were  not  to  be  after  four." 

So  they  rose  and  left,  and  Sheila  was  alone  with  her  hus- 
band, and  still  holding  his  hand.  She  looked  up  at  him 
timidly,  wondering,  perhaps,  in  her  simple  way,  as  to  whether 
she  should  not  now  pour  out  her  heart  to  him  and  tell  him 
all  her  griefs  and  fears  and  yearnings.  He  had  obviously 
been  deeply  moved  by  the  story  he  had  told  so  roughly; 
surely  now  was  a  good  opportunity  of  appealing  to  him,  and 
begging  for  sympathy  and  compassion. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  and  she  ruse  and  came  close,  and  bent 
down  her  head  to  hide  the  color  in  her  face. 

"  Well  ?"  he  answered,  a  trifle  coldly. 

"  You  won't  be  vexed  with  uie,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  with  her  heart  beginning  to  beat  rapidly. 

"Vexed  with  you;  about  what?"  he  said,  abruptly. 

Alas!  all  her  hopes  had  fled.  She  shrank  from  the  cold 
stare  with  which  she  knew  he  was  regarding  her.  She  felt  it 
to  be  impossible  that  she  should  place  before  him  those  con- 


234  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

fidences  with  which  she  had  approached  him;  and  so,  with  a 
great  effort,  she  merely  said:  "Are  we  to  go  to  Lady 
Leveret's  ?" 

"  Of  course  we  are,"  he  said,  "unless  you  would  rather  go 
to  see  some  blind  fiddler  or  beggar.  It  is  really  too  bad  of 
you.  Sheila,  to  be  so  forgetful;  what  if  Lady  Leveret,  for 
example,  had  come  into  that  shop?  It  seems  to  me  you  are 
never  satisfied  with  meeting  the  people  you  ought  to  meet, 
but  that  you  must  go  and  associate  with  all  the  wretched 
cripples  and  beggars  you  can  find.  You  should  remember 
you  are  a  woman,  and  not  a  child — that  people  will  talk 
about  what  you  do  if  you  go  on  in  this  mad  way.  Do  you 
ever  see  Mrs.  Kavanagh  or  her  daughter  do  any  of  these 
things?" 

Sheila  had  let  go  his  hand;  her  eyes  were  still  turned 
toward  the  ground.  She  had  fancied  that  a  little  of  that 
emotion  that  had  been  awakened  in  him  by  the  story  of  the 
German  mother  and  her  son  might  warm  his  heart  toward 
herself,  and  render  it  possible  for  her  to  talk  to  him  frankly 
about  all  that  she  had  been  dimly  thinking,  and  more  de- 
finitely suffering.     She  was  m'staken,  that  was  all. 

"  i  will  try  to  do  better,  and  please  you,"  she  said;  and 
then  she  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   FRIEND    IN    NEED. 

Was  it  a  delusion  that  had  grown  up  in  the  girl's  mind,  and 
held  full  possession  of  it — that  she  was  in  a  world  with  which 
she  had  no  sympathy,  that  she  should  never  be  able  to  find 
a  home  there,  that  the  influences  of  it  were  gradually  and 
surely  stealing  from  her  her  husband's  love  and  confidence? 
Or  was  this  longing  to  get  away  from  the  people  and  the  cir- 
cumstances that  surrounded  her  but  the  unconscious  prompt- 
ings of  an  incipient  jealousy?  She  did  not  question  her  own 
mind  closely  on  these  points.  She  only  vaguely  knew  that 
she  was  miserable,  and  that  she  could  not  tell  her  husband 
of  the  weight  that  pressed  on  her  heart. 

Here,  too,  as  they  drove  along  to  have  tea  with  a  certain 
Lady  Leveret,  who  was  one  of  Lavender's  especial  jxatrons, 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 


'■35 


and  to  whom  he  had  introduced  ]\Irs.  Kavanagh  and  her 
daughter,  Sheila  felt  that  she  was  a  stranger,  an  interloper,  a 
"  third  wheel  to  the  cart."  She  scarcely  spoke  a  word,  fche 
locked  at  the  sea,  but  she  had  almost  grown  to  regard  that 
great  plain  of  smooth  water  as  a  melancholy  and  monotonous 
thing— not  the  bright  and  boisterous  sea  of  her  youth,  with 
its  w.nding  channels,  its  secret  bays  and  rocks,  its  salt 
winds  and  rushing  waves.  She  was  disappointed  with  the 
perpetual  wall  of  white  cliff,  where  she  had  expected  to  see 
something  of  the  black  and  rugged  shore  of  the  North.  She 
had  as  yet  made  no  acquaintance  with  the  sea-life  of  the  place; 
she  did  not  know  where  the  curers  lived;  whether  they  gave 
the  fishermen  credit  and  cheated  them;  whether  the  people 
about  here  made  any  use  of  the  back  of  the  dog-fish,  or 
could,  in  hard  seasons,  cook  any  of  the  wild-fowl;  what  the 
ling  and  the  cod  and  the  skate  fetched;  where  the  wives  and 
the  daughters  sat  and  spun  and  carded  their  wool;  whether 
they  knew  how  to  make  a  good  dish  of  cockles  boiled  in 
milk.  She  smiled  to  herself  when  she  thought  of  asking  Mrs. 
Lorraine  about  any  such  things;  but  she  still  cherished  some 
vague  hope  that  before  she  left  Brighton  she  would  have 
some  little  chance  of  getting  near  to  the  sea  and  learning  a 
little  of  the  sea-life  down  in  the  South. 

And  as  they  drove  along  the  King's  Road  on  this  afternoon 
she  suddenly  called  out,  "  Look,  Frank  !" 

On  the  steps  of  the  Old  Sh^p  Hotel  stood  a  small  man 
with  a  brown  face,  a  brown  beard  and  a  beaver  hat,  virho  was 
calmly  smoking  a  wooden  pipe,  and  looking  at  an  old  woman 
selling  oranges  in  front  of  him. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Ingram,"  said  Sheila. 

"Which  is  Mr.  Ingram?"  asked  Mrs.  Lorraine,  with  con- 
siderable interest,  for  she  had  often  heard  Lavender  speak 
of  his  friend.     "  Not  that  little  man  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lavender,  coldly  ;  he  could  have  wished  that 
Ingram  had  had  sjme  Httle  more  regard  for  appearances  in 
so  public  a  place  as  the  main  thoroughfare  of  Brighton. 

"Won't  you  stop  and  ?peak  to  him?"  said  Sheila,  with 
great  surprise. 

"  We  are  late  already,"  said  her  husband.  "  But  if  you 
would  rather  go  back  and  speak  to  him  than  go  on  with  us, 
you  may." 

Sheila  said  nothing  more;  and  so  they  drove  on  to  the  end 


236  A    PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

of  the  Parade,  where  Lady  Leveret  held  possession  of  a  big 
white  house  with  pillars,  overlooking  the  broad  street  and 
the  sea. 

But  next  morning  she  said  to  him,  "I  suppose  you  will  be 
riding  with  Mrs.  Lorraine  this  morning?" 

"  1  suppose  so." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  and  see  Mr.  Ingram,  if  he  is  still 
there,"  she  said. 

"Ladies  don't  generally  call  at  hotels  and  ask  to  see  gen- 
tlemen ;  but  of  course  you  don't  care  for  that.'' 

"  I  shall  not  go  if  you  do  not  wish  me." 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  You  may  as  well  go.  What  is  the  use  of 
professing  to  keep  observances  that  you  don't  understand  ? 
And  it  will  be  some  amusement  for  you,  for  I  dare  say  both 
of  you  will  immediately  go  and  a^k  some  old  cab-driver  to 
have  luncheon  with  you,  or  buy  a  nosegay  of  flowers  for  his 
horse." 

The  permission  was  not  very  gracious,  but  Sheila  accepted 
it,  and  very  shortly  after  breakfast  she  changed  her  dress 
and  went  out.  How  pleasant  it  was  to  know  that  she  was 
going  to  see  her  old  friend,  to  whom  she  could  talk  freely! 
The  morning  seemed  to  know  of  her  gladness,  and  to  share 
in  it,  for  there  was  a  brisk  Southerly  breeze  blowing  fresh  in 
from  the  sea,  and  the  leaves  were  leaping  white  in  the  sun- 
light. There  was  no  more  sluggishness  in  the  air,  or  the  gray 
sky,  or  the  leaden  plain  of  the  sea.  Sheila  knew  that  the 
blood  was  mantling  in  her  cheeks;  that  her  heart  was  full  of 
joy;  that  her  whole  frame  so  tingled  with  life  and  spirit  that, 
had  she  been  in  Borva,  she  would  have  challenged  her  deer- 
hound  to  a  race,  and  fled  down  the  side  of  the  hill  with  him 
to  the  small  bay  of  while  sand  below  the  house.  She  did  not 
pause  for  a  minute  when  she  reached  the  hotel.  She  went 
up  the  steps,  opened  the  door,  and  entered  the  square  hall. 
There  was  an  odor  of  tobacco  in  the  p'ace,  and  several 
gentlemen  standing  about  rather  confused  her,  for  she  had  to 
glance  at  them  in  looking  for  a  waiter.  Another  minute 
would  probably  have  found  her  a  trifle  embarrassed,  but 
that,  just  at  this  crisis,  she  saw  Ingram  himself  come  out  of  a 
room,  with  a  cigarette  in  his  hand.  He  threw  away  the  cig- 
arette, and  came  forward  to  her,  with  amazement  in  his  eyes. 
"  Where  is  Mr.  Lavender?  Has  he  gone  into  the  smokiiig- 
room  for  me  ?"  he  asked.  ' 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 


237 


"  He  is  not  here,"  said  Sheila.  "  I  have  come  for  you 
by  mytelf.'* 

For  a  mf^ment,  too,  Ingram  felt  the  eyes  of  the  men  on 
him,  but  directly  he  said,  with  a  fine  air  of  carelessness, 
"Well,  that  is  very  good  of  you.  Shall  we  go  out  for  a  stroll 
until  your  husband  comes?" 

So  he  opened  the  door  and  followed  her  outside  into  the 
fresh  air  and  the  roar  of  the  waves. 

"Well,  Sheila,"  he  said,  **  this  is  very  good  of  you,  really; 
where  is  Mr.  Lavender?" 

"  He  generally  rides  with  Mrs.  Lorraine  in  the  morning." 

"  And  what  do  you  do  ?" 

"  I  sit  at  the  window." 

"  Don't  you  go  boating?'' 

"  No,  1  have  not  been  in  a  boat.  They  do  not  care  for  it. 
And  yesterday  it  was  a  letter  to  papa  I  was  writing,  and  I 
could  tell  him  nothing  about  the  people  here  or  the  fishing." 

"  But  you  could  not  in  any  case.  Sheila.  I  suppose  you 
would  like  to  knew  what  they  pay  for  their  lines,  and  how 
they  dye  their  wool,  and  so  on ;  but  y*  u  would  find  the  fish- 
ermen here  don't  live  in  that  way  at  all.  They  are  all  civi- 
lized, you  know.  They  buy  their  clothing  in  the  shops. 
They  never  eat  any  sort  of  seaweed  or  dye  with  it,  either. 
However,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  by-and-by.  At  present 
1  suppose  you  are  returning  to  your  hotel." 

A  quick  look  of  pain  and  disappointment  passed  over  her 
face  as  she  turned  to  him  for  a  moment  with  something  of 
entreaty  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  came  to  see  you,"  she  said.  ' '  But  perhaps  you  have  an 
engagement.  I  do  not  wish  to  take  up  any  of  your  time;  if 
you  please,  I  will  go  back  alone  to — " 

"Now,  Sheila,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  and  with  the  eld 
friendly  look  she  knew  so  well,  "you  must  not  talk  like  that 
to  me.  I  won't  have  it.  You  know  I  came  down  to  Brighton 
because  you  asked  me  to  come;  and  my  time  is  altogether 
at  your  service." 

"And  you  have  no  engagement  just  now?"'  said  Sheila, 
with  her  face  brightening. 

"No." 

"And  you  will  take  me  down  to  the  shore  to  see  the  boats 
and  nets  ?  Or  could  we  go  out  and  run  along  the  coast  for 
a  few  miles  ?     It  is  a  very  good  wind." 


238  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE, 

"Oh,  I  should  be  very  glad,"  said  Ingram  slowly,  "1 
should  be  delighted.  But,  you  see,  wouldn't  your  husband 
think  it — wouldn't  he  you  know — wouldn't  it  seem  just  a 
little  odd  to  him  if  you  were  to  go  away  like  that  ?'' 

"  He  is  to  go  riding  with  Mrs.  Lorraine,"  said  Sheila  quite 
simply.     "  He  does  not  want  me." 

"Of  course  you  told  him  you  were  coming  to  see — you 
were  going  to  call  at  the  Old  Ship  ?" 

"  Yes.  And  I  am  sure  he  would  not  be  surprised  if  I  did 
not  return  for  a  long  time." 

''Are  you  quite  sure,  Sheila?" 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  sure," 

"  Very  well.  Now  I  shall  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do 
with  you.  I  shall  first  go  and  bribe  some  mercenary  boat- 
man to  let  us  have  one  of  those  small  boats  committed  to 
our  own  exclusive  charge.  I  shall  constitute  you  sk'pper 
and  pilot  of  the  craft,  and  hold  you  responsible  for  my  safety. 
I  shall  smoke  a  pipe  to  prepare  me  for  whatever  may  befall." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Sheila.  "  You  must  work  very  hard,  and 
I  will  see  whether  you  remember  all  that  I  taught  you  in  the 
Lewis.  And  if  we  can  have  some  long  lines  we  might  get 
some  fish.  Will  the)'  pay  more  than  thirty  shillings  for  their 
long  lines  in  this  country  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ingram.  "I  believe  most  of  the 
fishermen  here  live  upon  the  shillings  they  get  from  the 
passers-by  after  a  little  conversation  about  the  weather  and 
their  hard  lot  in  life;  so  that  one  doesn't  talk  to  them  more 
than  one  can  help." 

"But  why  do  they  need  the  money  ?     Are  there  no  fish  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that,  either.  I  suppose  there  is  some  good 
fishing  in  the  Winter,  and  sometimes  in  the  Summer  they  get 
some  big  shoals  of  mackerel." 

*'  It  was  a  letter  I  had  last  week  from  the  sister  of  one  of 
the  men  of  the  Nighean-dubh,  and  she  will  tell  me  that  they 
have  been  very  lucky  all  through  the  last  season,  and  it  was 
near  six  thousand  ling  they  got." 

"  But  I  suppose  they  are  in  debt  to  some  curer  up  about 
Habost  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  not  at  all.  It  is  their  own  boat  ;  it  is  not  hired 
to  them.     And  it  is  a  very  good  boat  whatever." 

That  unlucky  "whatever''  had  slipped  out  inadvertently: 
the   moment   she   had    uttered    it  she   blushed  and  looked 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


■-'■30 


timidly  toward  her  companion,  fearing  that  he  had  noticed 
it.  He  had  not.  How  could  she  have  made  such  a  blunder? 
she  asked  herself.  She  had  been  most  particular  about  the 
avoidance  of  the  word,  even  in  the  Lewis.  The  girl  did  not 
know  that  from  the  moment  she  had  left  the  steps  of  the  Old 
Ship  in  company  with  that  good  friend  of  hers  she  had  un- 
consciously lallen  into  much  of  her  old  pronounciation  and 
her  o'd  habit  of  speech;  while  Ingram,  much  more  familiar 
with  the  Sheila  of  Boivapost  and  Loch  Roag  than  with  the 
Sheila  of  Netting  Hill  and  Kensington  Gardens  did  not  per- 
ceive the  difference,  but  was  mightily  pleased  to  hear  her 
talk  in  any  fashion  whatsoever. 

By  fair  means  or  foul,  Ingram  managed  to  secure  a  pretty 
little  sailing  vessel  which  lay  at  anchor  out  near  the  New 
Pier,  and  when  the  pecuniary  negotiations  were  over.  Sheila 
was  invited  to  walk  down  over  the  loose  stones  of  the  beach 
and  take  command  of  the  craft.  The  boatman  was  still  very 
doubtful.  When  he  had  pulled  them  out  to  the  boat,  how- 
ever, and  put  them  on  board,  he  speedily  perceived  that  his 
handsome  young  lady  not  only  knew  everything  that  had  to 
be  done  in  the  way  of  getting  the  small  vessel  ready,  but  had 
a  very  smart  and  business-like  way  of  doing  it.  It  was  very 
obvious  that  her  companion  did  not  know  half  as  much  about 
the  matter  as  she  did;  but  he  was  obedient  and  watchful,  and 
presently  they  were  ready  to  start.  The  man  put  off  in  his 
boat  to  shore  again,  much  relieved  in  mind,  but  not  a  little 
puzzled  to  understand  where  the  young  lady  had  picked  up 
not  merely  her  knowledge  of  boats,  but  the  ready  way  in 
which  she  put  her  delicate  hands  to  hard  work,  and  the  prompt 
and  effectual  fashion  in  which  she  accompiibhed  it. 

"Shall  1  belay  away  the  jib  or  reef  the  upper  hatchways?'* 
Ingram  called  out  to  Sheite  when  they  had  fairly  got  under 
way. 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  she  was  still  watching 
with  a  critical  eye  the  manner  in  which  the  boat  answered 
to  her  wishes;  and  then,  when  everything  promised  well  and 
she  was  quite  satisfied,  she  said,  "If  you  will  take  my  place 
for  a  moment  and  keep  a  good  lookout,  I  will  put  on  my 
gloves." 

She  surrendered  the  tiller  and  the  mainsail  sheets  into  his 
care,  and,  with  another  glance  ahead,  pulled  out  her  gloves. 

"You  did  not  use  to  fear  the  salt  water  or  the  sun  on 
your  hands,  Sheila,"  said  her  companion. 


240  "    '  A  PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  I  do  not  now,"  she  said,  "but  Frank  would  be  displeased 
to  see  my  hands  brown.    He  has  himself  such  pretty  hands." 

What  Ingram  thought  about  Frank  Lavender's  delicate 
hands  he  was  not  going  to  say  to  his  wife;  and  indeed  he  was 
called  upon  at  this  moment  to  let  Sheila  resume  her  post, 
which  she  did  with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction  and  content. 

And  so  they  ran  lightly  through  the  curling  and  dashing 
water  on  this  brilliant  day,  caring  little  i  ideed  for  the  great 
town  that  lay  away  to  leeward,  with  its  shining  terraces  sur- 
mounted by  a  faint  cloud  of  smoke.  Here  all  the  roar  of 
carriages  and  people  was  unheard;  the  only  sound  that  ac- 
companied their  talk  was  the  splashing  of  the  waves  at  the 
prow,  and  the  hissing  and  gurgling  of  the  water  along 
the  boat  The  South  wind  blew  fresh  and  sweet  around 
them,  filling  the  broad  white  sails  and  fluttering  the  small 
pennon  up  there  in  the  blue.  It  seemed  strange  to  Sheila 
that  she  should  be  so  much  alone  with  so  great  a  town  close 
by — th:,t  under  the  boom  she  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
noisy  Parade  witht  ut  hearing  any  of  its  noise.  And  there, 
away  to  windward,  there  was  no  more  trace  of  city  life — only 
the  great  blue  sea.  with  its  waves  flowing  on  toward  them 
from  out  of  the  far  horizon,  and  with  here  and  there  a  pale 
ship  just  appearing  on  the  line  where  the  sky  and  ocean  met. 

"Well,  Sheila,  how  do  you  like_ being  on  the  sea  again?" 
said  Ingram,  getting  out  his  pipe. 

**  Oh,  very  well.  But  you  must  not  smoke  Mr.  Ingram; 
you  must  attend  to  the  boat." 

"  Don't  you  feel  at  home  in  her  yet  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  her,"  said  Sheila,  regarding  the  lines 
of  the  small  craft  with  the  eye  of  a  shipbuilder,  "  but  she  is 
very  narrow  in  the  beam,  and  she  carries  too  much  sail  for 
so  small  a  thing.  I  suppose  they  iiave  not  any  squalls  on  this 
coast,  where  you  have  no  hills  and  no  narrows  to  go  through.'* 

"  It  doesn't  remind  you  of  Lewis,  does  it?"  he  said,  filling 
his  pipe  all  the  same. 

**A  little — out  there  it  does,"  she  said,  turning  to  the 
broad  plain  of  the  sea,  "  but  it  is  not  much  that  is  in  this 
country  that  is  like  the  Lewis;  sometimes  I  think  that  I 
shall  be  a  stranger  when  I  go  back  to  the  Lewis,  and  the 
people  will  scarcely  know  me,  and  every  thing  will  be  changed.'' 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  second  or  two.  Then  he  laid  down 
his  pipe,  which  had  not  been  lit,  and  said  to  her  gravely,  **  I 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  241 

want  you  to  tell  me,  Sheila,  why  you  have  got  into  a  habit 
lately  of  talking  about  many  things,  and  especially  about 
your  home  in  the  North,  in  that  sad  way.  You  did  not  do 
that  when  y  u  came  to  London  first;  and  yet  it  was  then 
that  you  might  ha\e  been  stru  k  and  shocked  by  the  d  ffer- 
ence.  You  had  no  home-sickness  for  a  long  time.  But  is  it 
home-sickness,  Sheila  ?" 

How  was  she  to  tell  him  ?  For  an  instant  she  was  on  the 
point  of  giving  him  all  her  confidence;  and  then,  somehow 
or  other,  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  would  be  wronging  her 
husband  in  seeking  such  sympathy  from  a  friend  as  she  had 
been  expecting,  and  expecting  in  vain,  from  him. 

**  Perhaps  it  is  home-sickness,"  she  said,  in  a  low  vcice, 
while  she  pretended  to  be  busy  tightening  up  the  mamsail 
sheet.     "  I  should  like  to  see  Borva  again." 

"  But  you  don't  wrnt  to  live  there  all  your  life  ?"  he  said. 
"You  know  that  would  be  unreasonable,  Sheila,  even  if  ycur 
husband  could  manage  it;  and  I  don't  suppose  he  can. 
Surely  your  papa  does  not  expect  you  to  go  and  live  in  Lewis 
always  ?" 

'•Oh,  no,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "You  must  not  think  my 
papa  wishes  anything  like  that.  It  will  be  much  less  than 
that  he  was  thinking  of  when  he  used  to  speak  to  Mr.  Laven- 
der about  it.  And  I  do  not  wish  to  live  in  the  Lewis  always; 
I  have  no  dislike  to  London — none  at  all — only  that — 
that — "    And  here  she  paused. 

"Come,  Sheila,"  he  said  in  the  old  paternal  way  to  which 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  yield  up  all  her  own  wishes  in 
the  old  days  of  their  friendship,  "I  want  you  to  be  frank 
with  me,  and  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  I  know  there  is 
something  wrong;  I  have  seen  it  for  some  time  back.  Now, 
you  know  I  took  the  responsibility  of  your  marriage  on  my 
shoulders,  and  I  am  responsible  to  you,  and  to  your  papa 
and  myself  for  your  comfort  and  happiness.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

She  still  hesitated,  grateful  in  her  inmost  heart,  but  still 
doubtful  as  to  what  she  should  do. 

"  You  look  on  me  as  an  intermeddler,"  he  said  with  a 
smile. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said;  "you  have  always  been  our  best 
friend, 

"But  I  have  intermeddled,  none  the  less.     Don't  you  re- 


242  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

member  when  I  told  you  that  I  was  prepared  to  accept  the 
consequences?" 

It  seemed  so  long  a  time  since  then  ! 

"And  once  having  to  intermeddle,  I  can't  stop  it,  don't 
you  see?  Now,  Sheila,  youM  be  a  good  little  girl  and  do 
what  I  tell  you.  You'll  take  the  boat  a  long  way  out;  we'll 
put  her  head  around,  take  down  the  sails,  and  let  her  tum- 
ble about  and  drift  for  a  time,  till  you  tell  me  all  about  your 
troubles,  and  then  we'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

She  obeyed  in  silence  with  her  face  grown  grave  enough 
in  anticipation  of  the  coming  disclosures.  She  knew  that 
the  first  plunge  into  them  would  be  keenly  painful  to  her, 
but  there  was  a  feeling  at  her  heart  that,  this  penance  over, 
a  great  relief  would  be  at  hand.  She  trusted  this  man  as  she 
would  have  trusted  her  own  father.  She  knew  that  there  was 
nothing  on  earth  he  would  not  attempt  if  he  fancied  it  would 
help  her.  And  she  knew,  too,  that  having  experienced  so 
much  of  hi?  great  unselfishness  and  kindness  and  thoughtful- 
ness,  she  was  ready  to  obey  him  implicitly  in  anything  that 
he  could  assure  her  was  right  for  her  to  do. 

How  far  away  seemed  the  white  cliffs  now,  and  the  faint 
green  downs  above  them!  Brighton,  lying  farther  to  the 
West,  had  become  dim  and  yellow,  and  over  it  a  cloud  of 
smoke  lay  thick  and  brown  in  the  sunlight.  A  mere  s:reak 
showed  the  line  of  the  King's  road  and  all  its  carriages  and 
people;  the  beach  beneah  could  just  be  made  out  by  the 
white  dots  of  the  bathing-machines;  the  brown  fishing-boats 
seemed  to  be  close  in  shore;  the  two  piers  were  foreshort- 
ened into  small  dusky  masses  marking  the  beginning  of  the 
sea.  And  then  from  these  distant  and  faintly-defined  ob- 
jects out  here  to  the  side  of  the  small  white  and  pink  boat, 
that  lay  lightly  in  the  lapping  water,  stretched  that  great 
and  moving  network  of  waves,  with  here  and  there  a  sharp 
gleam  of  white  foam  curling  over  amid  the  dark  blue-green. 
Ingram  took  his  seat  by  Sheila's  side,  so  that  he  should 
not  have  to  look  in  her  downcast  face;  and  then  with  some 
little  preliminary  nervousness  and  hesitation,  the  girl  told 
her  story.  She  told  it  to  sympathetic  ears,  and  yet  Ingram, 
having  partly  guessed  how  matters  stood,  and  anxious,  per- 
haps, to  know  whether  much  of  her  trouble  might  not  be 
merely  the  result  of  fancies  which  could  be  reasoned  and  ex- 
plained away,  was  careful  to  avoid  anything  like  corrobora- 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  243 

tion.  He  let  her  talk  in  her  own  simple  and  artless  way: 
and  the  girl  spoke  to  him,  after  a  little  while,  with  an  earn- 
nestness  which  showed  how  deeply  she  felt  her  position.  At 
the  very  outset  she  told  him  that  her  love  for  her  husband 
had  never  altered  fiT  a  moment — that  all  the  prayers  and 
desire  of  her  h^art  were  that  they  two  might  be  to  each  other 
as  she  had  at  one  time  hoped  they  would  be  when  he  got 
to  knew  her  bet'er. 

S:ie  went  over  all  the  story  of  her  coming  to  London,  of 
her  first  experiences  there,  of  the  conviction  ih  t  grew  upon 
her  that  her  husband  was  somehow  disappointed  with  her, 
and  was  anxious  now  that  she  should  conform  to  the  ways 
and  habits  of  the  people  with  whom  he  associated.  Ch.e 
spoke  of  her  eff)rts  to  obey  his  wishes,  and  how  heartsick 
she  wa«;  with  her  failures,  and  of  the  dissatisfaction  which  he 
showed.  She  spoke  of  the  people  to  whom  he  devoted  his 
life,  of  the  way  in  which  he  passed  his  time,  and  of  the  im- 
possibility of  her  showing  him,  so  long  as  he  thus  remained 
apart  from  lier,  the  love  she  had  in  her  heart  for  him,  and 
the  longing  for  sympathy  which  that  love  involved.  And 
then  she  came  to  the  questic  n  of  Mrs.  Lorraine  ;  and  here  it 
seemed  to  Ingram  she  was  trying  at  once  to  put  her  husband's 
conduct  in  the  most  favorable  light,  and  to  blame  herself  for 
her  unreasonableness.  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  a  pleasant  com- 
panion to  him,  she  could  talk  cleverly  and  brightly,  she 
was  pretty,  and  she  knew  a  large  number  of  his  friends. 
Sheila  was  anxious  to  show  that  it  was  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  that  her  husband,  finding  her  so  out  of  conmiu- 
nion  with  his  ordinary  surroundings,  should  make  an  especial 
friend  of  this  graceful  and  fascinating  woman.  And  if  at 
times  it  hurt  her  to  be  left  alone — but  here  the  girl  broke 
down  somewhat,  and  Ingram  pretended  not  to  know  that  she 
was  crying. 

These  were  strange  things  to  be  told  to  a  man,  and  they 
were  difficult  to  answer.  But  out  of  these  revelations — which 
rather  took  the  form  of  a  cry  than  of  any  distinct  statement 
— he  formed  a  notion  of  Shiela's  position  sufficiently  exact; 
and  the  more  he  looked  at  it  the  more  alarmed  and  pained 
he  grew,  for  he  knew  more  of  her  than  her  husband  did.  He 
knew  the  latent  force  of  character  that  underlay  all  her  sub- 
missive gentleness.  He  knew  the  keen  sense  of  pride  her 
Highland  birth  had  given  her;    and  he  feared  what  might 


244  -A-    PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

happen  if  this  sensitive  and  proud  heart  of  hers  were  driven 
into  rebellion  by  some  possibly  unintentional  wrong.  And 
this  high-spirited,  fearless,  honor-loving  girl — who  was  gentle 
and  obedient,  not  through  any  timidity  or  limpness  of  char- 
acter, but  because  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  be  gentle  and 
obedient — was  to  be  cast  aside  and  have  her  tenderest  feel- 
ings outraged  and  wounded  for  the  sake  of  an  unscrupulous, 
shallow-biained  woman  of  fashion,  who  was  not  fit  to  be 
Shiela's  waiting-maid,  Ingram  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Lorraine, 
but  he  had  formed  his  own  opinion  of  her.  The  opinion, 
based  upon  nothing,  was  wholly  wrong,  but  it  served  to  in- 
crease, if  that  were  possible,  his  sympathy  with  Shiela,  and 
his  resolve  to  interfere  on  her  behalf  at  whatever  cost. 

"  Sheila,''  he  said,  gravely  putting  his  hand  on  her  shoul- 
der as  if  she  wer^  still  the  little  girl  who  used  to  run  wild 
with  him  about  the  Borva  rocks,  "  you  are  a  good  woman." 

He  added  to  himself  that  Lavender  knew  little  of  the  value 
of  the  wife  he  had  gut,  but  he  dared  not  say  that  to  Sheila, 
who  would  suffer  no  imputation  against  her  husband  to  be 
uttered  in  her  presence,  however  true  it  might  be,  or  however 
much  she  h  id  cause  to  know  it  to  be  true. 

"  And,  after  all,"  he  said  in  a  lighter  voice,  "  I  think  I  can 
do  something  to  mend  all  this.  I  wjU  say  for  Frank  Laven- 
der that  he  is  a  thoroughly  good  fellow  at  heart,  and  that 
when  you  appeal  to  him,  and  put  things  fairly  before  him, 
and  show  him  what  he  ought  to  do,  there  is  not  a  more  hon- 
orable and  straightforward  man  in  the  world.  He  has  been 
forgetful.  Sheila.  He  has  been  led  away  by  these  people, 
you  know,  and  has  not  been  aware  of  what  you  were  suffer- 
ing. When  I  put  the  matter  before  him,  you  will  see  it  will 
be  all  right;  and  I  hope  to  persuade  him  to  give  up  this  con- 
stant idling  and  take  to  his  woik,  and  have  something  to  live 
for.  I  wish  you  and  I  together  could  get  him  to  go  away 
from  London  altogether — get  him  to  take  to  serious  land- 
scape painting  on  some  wild  coast — the  Galway  coast,  for 
examplr," 

"Why  not  the  Lewis?"  said  Sheila,  her  heart  turning  to 
the  North  as  naturally  as  the  needle. 

"Or  the  Lewis.  And  I  should  like  you  and  him  to  live 
away  from  hotels  and  luxuries,  and  all  such  things;  and  he 
would  work  all  day,  and  you  would  do  the  cooking  in  some 
small  cottage  you  could  rent,  you  know." 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  «45 

"  You  make  me  so  happy  in  thinking  of  that,"  she  said, 
with  her  eyes  growing  well  again. 

"And  why  should  he  not  do  so?  There  is  nothing  ro- 
mantic or  idyllic  about  it,  but  a  good,  wholesome,  plain 
sort  of  life,  that  is  likely  to  make  an  honest  painter  of  him, 
and  bring  both  of  you  some  well-earned  money.  And  you 
might  have  a  boat  like  this." 

"  We  are  drifting  too  far  in,"  said  Sheila,  suddenly  rising. 
*'  Shall  we  go  back  now  ?" 

*' By  all  means,"  he  said;  and  so  the  small  boat  was  put 
under  canvas  again,  and  was  soon  making  way  through  the 
breezy  water. 

"Well,  all  this  seems  simple  enough,  doesn't  it?"  said  Ingram. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  with  her  face  full  of  hope. 

"  And  then,  of  course,  when  you  are  quite  comfortable  to- 
gether, and  making  heaps  of  money,  you  can  turn  around 
and  abuse  me,  and  say  I  made  all  the  misery  to  begin  with," 

"  Did  we  do  so  before  when  you  were  very  kind  to  us?" 
she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  but  that  was  different.  To  interfere  on  behalf  of 
two  young  folks  who  are  in  love  with  each  other  is  danger- 
ous, but  to  interfere  between  two  people  who  are  married — 
that  is  a  certain  quarrel,  I  wonder  what  you  will  say  when 
you  are  scolding  me,  Sheila,  and  bidding  me  get  out  of  the 
house  ?  I  have  never  heard  you  scold.  Is  it  Gaelic  or  Eng- 
lish you  prefer  ?" 

"  I  prefer  whichever  can  say  the  nicest  things  to  my  very 
good  friends,  and  tell  them  how  grateful  I  am  for  their  kind- 
ness to  me." 

"  Ah,  well,  we'll  see." 

When  they  got  back  to  shore  it  was  half-past  one. 

"You  will  come  and  have  some  luncheon  with  us?"  said 
Sheila  when  they  had  gone  up  the  steps  and  into  the  King's 
road. 

"Will  that  lady  be  there?" 

"  Mrs.  Lorraine  ?     Yts." 

*'Then  I'll  come  some  other  time." 

"  But  why  not  come  now  ?"  said  Sheila.  "  It  is  not  necesr 
sary  that  you  will  see  us  only  to  speak  about  those  things  we 
have  been  talking  over  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  If  you  and  Mr.  Lavender  were  by 
yourselves,  I  should  come  at  once." 


246  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

**And  are  you  afraid  of  Mrs.  Lorraine?"  said  Sheila,  with 
a  smile.  "She  is  a  very  nice  lady,  indeed:  you  have  no 
cause  to  dislike  her." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  meet  her,  Sheila,  that  is  all,"  he  said; 
and  she  knew  well,  by  the  precision  of  his  manner,  that 
there  was  no  use  trying  to  persuade  him  furiher. 

He  walked  along  to  the  hotel  with  her,  meeting  a  consid- 
erable stream  of  fashionably-dressed  folks  on  the  way;  and 
neither  he  nor  she  seemed  to  remember  that  his  costume — a 
blue  pilot  jacket,  not  a  lifde  worn  and  soiled  with  the  salt 
water,  and  a  beaver  hat  that  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  rough 
weather  in  the  Highlands — was  a  good  deal  more  comforta- 
ble than  elegant.  He  said  to  her,  as  he  left  her  at  the  hotel: 
"  Would  you  mind  telling  Lavender  I  shall  drop  in  at  half- 
past  three,  and  that  I  expect  to  see  him  in  the  coffee-room  ? 
I  shan't  keep  him  five  minutes." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  he  saw  that  she  knew 
what  this  appointment  meant,  for  her  eyes  were  full  of 
gladness  and  gratitude.  He  went  away  pleased  at  heart  that 
she  put  so  much  trust  in  him.  And  in  this  case  he  should  be 
able  to  reward  that  confidence,  fcr  Lavender  was  really  a 
good  sort  of  fellow,  and  would  at  once  be  sorry  for  the  wrong 
he  had  unintentionally  done,  and  be  only  too  anxious  to  set 
v.  right.  He  ought  to  leave  Brighton  at  once,  and  London, 
t:»o.  He  ought  to  go  away  into  the  country  or  by  the  sea- 
side, and  begin  working  hard  to  earn  money  and  self-respect 
at  the  same  time;  and  then,  in  his  friendly  solitude,  he  would 
get  to  know  something  about  Sheila's  character,  and  begin  to 
perceive  how  much  more  valuable  vi'ere  these  genuine  quali- 
ties of  heart  and  mind  than  any  social  graces  such  as  might 
lighten  up  a  dull  drawing-room.  Had  Lavender  yet  learnt 
to  know  the  worth  of  an  honest  woman's  perfect  love  and 
unquestioning  devotion?  Let  these  things  be  put  before 
him,  and  he  would  go  and  do  the  right  thing,  as  he  had 
many  a  time  done  before,  in  obedience  to  the  lecturing  of 
his  friend. 

Ingram  called  at  half-past  three,  and  went  into  the  coffee- 
room.  There  was  no  one  in  the  long,  large  room,  and  he 
sat  down  at  one  of  the  small  tables  by  the  windows,  from 
which  a  bit  of  lawn,  the  King's  road  and  the  sea  beyond 
were  visible.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his  seat  when  Lavender 
came  in. 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  247 

"  Halloo,  Ingram!  how  are  you?"  he  said  in  his  freest  and 
friendliest  way.  Won't  you  come  up  stairs?  Have  you  had 
lunch?     Why  did  you  go  to  the  Ship? 

"  I  always  go  to  the  Ship,''  he  said.  "No,  thank  you,  I 
won't  go  up-stairs." 

"  You  are  a  most  unsociable  sort  of  brute !"  said  Lavender 
frankly.     "  Will  you  take  a  glass  of  sherry  ?" 

"No,  thank  you." 

**  Will  you  have  a  game  of  billiards  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you.  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  would  play 
billiards  on  such  a  day  as  this  ?" 

"  It  is  2l  fine  day,  isn't  it?"  said  Lavender,  turning  care- 
lessly to  look  at  the  sunlit  road  and  the  blue  sea.  "By  the 
way,  Sheila  tells  me  you  and  she  were  out  sailing  this  morn- 
ing. It  must  have  been  very  pleasant,  especially  for  her;  for 
she  is  mad  about  such  things.  What  a  curious  girl  she  is,  to 
be  sure  1     Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  curious,"  said  Ingram, 
coldly. 

"  Well,  you  know,  strange — odd — unlike  other  people  in 
her  ways  and  her  fancies.  Did  I  tell  you  about  my  aunt  tak- 
ing her  to  see  some  friends  of  hers  at  Norwood?  No? 
Well,  Sheila  had  got  out  of  the  house  somehow  (I  suppose 
their  talking  did  not  interest  her),  and  when  they  went  in 
search  of  her  they  found  her  in  the  cemetery,  crying  like  a 
child." 

"What  about?" 

"Why,"  said  Lavender,  with  a  smile,  "  merely  because  so 
many  people  had  died.  She  had  never  seen  anything  like 
that  beft)re ;  you  know  the  small  church-yards  up  in 
Lewis,  with  their  inscriptions  in  Norwegian  and  Danish  and 
German,  i  suppose  the  first  sight  of  all  the  white  stones  at 
Norwood  was  too  much  for  her." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  much  of  a  joke  in  that,"  said  Ingram. 

"Who  said  there  was  any  joke  in  it  ?'  cried  Lavender,  im- 
patiently. "  I  never  knew  such  a  cantankerous  fellow  as  you 
are.  You  are  always  fancying  I  am  finding  fault  with  Sheila, 
and  I  never  do  anything  of  the  kind.  She  is  a  very  good 
girl  indeed.  I  have  every  reasooKo  be  satisfied  with  the  way 
ONir  marriage  has  turned  out." 
'Has  she  r 
The  words  were  not  important,  but  there  was  something  in 


248  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken  that  suddenly  checked 
Frank  Lavender's  careless  flow  of  speech.  He  looked  at 
In,e;ram  fur  a  moment  with  some  surprise,  and  then  he  said, 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  mean,"  said  Ingram,  slowly. 
*'It  is  an  awkward  thing  for  a  man  to  interfere  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  I  am  aware — he  gets  something  else  than 
thanks  for  his  pains,  ordinarily— but  sometimes  it  has  to  be 
done,  thanks  or  kicks.  Now,  you  know,  Lavender,  I  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  helping  forward  your  marriage  in  the 
North;  and  I  don't  remind  you  of  that  to  c'aim  anything  in 
the  way  of  consideration,  but  to  explain  why  I  think  I  am 
called  on  to  speak  to  yuu  now." 

Lavender  was  at  once  a  little  frightened  and  a  little  irri- 
tated. He  half  gue  sed  what  might  be  coming,  from  the 
slow  and  precise  manner  in  which  Ingram  talked.  That 
form  of  speech  had  vexed  him  many  a  time  before,  for  he 
would  rather  have  had  any  amount  of  wild  contention  and 
bandying  about  of  reproaches  than  the  calm,  unimpassioned 
and  sententious  setting  forth  of  his  shortcomings  to  which 
this  sallow  little  man  Avas,  perhaps,  too  much  addicted. 

*' I  suppose  Sheila  has  been  complaining  to  you,  then?'* 
said  Lavender,  hotly. 

"You  may  suppose  what  absurdities  you  like,"  said  Ingram, 
quietly;  "  but  it  would  be  a  good  deal  better  if  you  would 
listen  to  me  patiently,  and  deal  in  a  common  sense  fashion 
with  what  I  have  got  to  say.  It  is  nothing  very  desperate. 
Nothing  has  happened  that  is  not  of  easy  remedy,  while  the 
remedy  would  leave  you  and  her  in  a  much  better  position, 
both  as  regards  your  own  estimation  of  yourselves  and  the 
opinion  of  your  friends. 

"  You  are  a  little  roundabout,  Ingram,"  said  Lavender, 
"  and  ornate.     But  I  suppose  all  lectures  begin  so.     Go  on." 

Ingram  laughed:  "If  I  am  too  formal  it  is  because  I  don't 
want  to  make  mischief  by  any  exaggeration.  Look  here  I 
A  long  time  before  you  were  married  I  warned  you  that 
Sheila  had  very  keen  and  sensitive  notions  about  the  duties 
that  people  ought  to  perform,  about  the  dignity  of  labor, 
about  the  proper  occupations  of  a  man,  and  so  forth.  These 
notions  you  may  regard  as  romantic  and  absurd,  if  you  like, 
but  you  might  as  well  try  to  change  the  color  of  her  eyes  as 
attempt  to  alter  any  of  her  beliefs  in  that  direction." 


A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  249 

"And  she  thinks  that  I  am  idle  and  indolent  because  I 
don't  care  what  a  wasnerwoman  pays  for  her  candles  ?"  said 
Lavender,  with  impetuous  contempt.  "Well,  be  it  so.  She 
is  welcome  to  her  opinic  n.  Bit  if  she  is  grieved  at  heart  be- 
cause I  can't  make  hob-nailed  boots,  it  s  ems  to  me  that  she 
might  as  well  come  aud  complain  to  myself,  instead  of  going 
and  derailing  her  wrongs  to  a  third  person,  and  calling  for 
his  sympathy  in  the  character  of  an  injured  wife." 

For  an  instant  the  dark  eyes  of  the  man  opposite  hin) 
blazed  with  a  quick  fire,  for  a  sneer  at  Sheila  was  worse  that» 
an  insult  to  hnnself;  but  he  kept  quite  calm,  and  said, 
"  That,  unfortunately,  is  not  what  is  troubling  her." 

Lavender  rose  abruptly,  took  a  turn  up  and  down  th& 
empty  room,  and  said,  ''If  there  is  anything  the  matter,  J 
prefer  to  hear  it  from  herself.  It  is  not  respectful  to  me  that 
she  should  call  in  a  third  person  to  humor  her  wliims  and 
fancies." 

"Whims  and  fancies  1"  said  Ingram,  with  that  dark  light 
return'ng  to  his  eyes.  "  Do  yuu  know  what  you  are  talking 
about  ?  Do  you  know  that  while  you  are  living  on  the  char, 
ity  of  a  woman  you  despise,  and  dawdling  about  the  skirts  of 
a  woman  who  laughs  at  you,  you  are  breaking  the  heart  of  a 
girl  who  has  not  her  equal  in  England?  Whims  and  fan- 
cies!    Good  God,  I  wonder  how  she  ever  could  have — " 

He  stopped,  but  the  mischief  was  done.  These  were  not 
prudent  words  to  come  from  a  man  who  wished  to  step  in  as 
a  mediator  between  husband  and  wife;  but  Ingram's  blaze 
of  wrath,  kindled  by  what  he  considered  the  insufferable  in- 
solence of  Lavender  in  thus  speaking  of  Sheila,  had  swept  all 
notions  of  prudence  before  it.  Lavender,  indeed,  was  much 
cooler  than  he  was,  and  said,  with  an  affectation  of  careless- 
ness, "  I  am  sorry  you  should  vex  yourself  so  much  about 
Sheila.  One  would  think  you  had  had  the  ambition  your- 
self, at  some  time  or  other,  to  play  the  part  of  husband  to 
her;  and  doubtless  then  you  would  have  made  sure  that  all 
her  idle  fancies  were  gratified.  As  it  is,  I  was  about  to  re- 
lieve you  from  the  trouble  of  further  explanation  by  saying 
that  I  am  quite  competent  to  manage  my  own  affairs,  and 
that  if  Sheila  has  any  complaint  to  make  she  must  make  it 
to  me." 

Ingram  rose,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Lavender,"  he  said,  "  it  does  not  matter  much  whether 


250  A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

you  and  I  quarrel — I  was  prepared  for  that,  in  any  case — but 
I  ask  you  to  give  Sheila  a  chance  of  telling  you  what  I  had 
intended  to  tell  you." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.     I  never  invite 
confidence.     When  she  wishes  to  tell  me  anything  she  knows 
I  am  ready  to  listen.     But  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  the  posi-, 
tion  of  affairs  as  they  are  at  present  "  I 

"God  help  you,  then!"  said  his  friend,  and  went  away, 
scarcely  daring  to  confess  to  himself  how  dark  the  future 
looked.  ♦ 


PART  VIII. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

EXCHANGES. 

Just  as  Frank  Lavender  went  down  stairs  to  meet  Ingram, 
a  letter  which  had  been  forwarded  from  London  was  brought 
to  Sheila.  It  bore  the  Lewis  postmark,  and  she  guessed  it 
was  from  Duncan,  for  she  had  told  Mairi  to  ask  the  tall 
keeper  to  write,  and  she  knew  he  would  hasten  to  obey  her 
request  at  any  sacrifice  of  comfort  to  himself.  Sheila  sat 
down  to  read  the  letter  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind.  She  had 
every  confidence  that  all  her  troubles  were  about  to  be  re- 
moved, now  that  her  good  friend  Ingram  had  come  to  her 
husband  ;  and  here  was  a  message  to  her  from  her  home, 
that  seemed,  even  before  she  read  it,  to  beg  of  her  to  come 
thither  light-hearted  and  joyous.     This  was  what  she  read: 

'*  BORVAPOST,  THE  ISLAND  OF  LeWIS, 

''  the  third  Aug.,  18—. 
•■'  Honored  Mrs.  Lavender: — It  waz  JMairi  waz  sayin  that 
you  will  want  me  to  write  to  you,  bit  I  am  not  good  at  th** 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


25^ 


writin  whatever,  and  it  was  2  years  since  I  was  written  to 
Amerika,  to  John  Ferkason  that  kept  the  tea-shop  in  Storno- 
way,  and  was  trooned  in  coming  home  the  very  last  year  be- 
fore this.  It  waz  Mairi  will  say  you  will  like  a  letter  as  well 
as  any  one  that  waz  goin  to  Amerika,  for  the  news  and  the 
things,  and  you  will  be  as  far  away  from  us  as  if  you  waz 
living  in  Amerika  or  Glaska.  But  there  is  not  much  news, 
for  the  lads  they  hev  all  pulled  up  the  boats,  and  they  are 
away  to  Wick,  and  Sandy  McDougal  that  waz  living  by 
Loch  Langavat,  he  will  be  going  too,  for  he  waz  up  at  the 
sheilings  when  Mrs.  Paterson's  lasses  was  there  with  the  cows, 
and  it  waz  Jeanie  the  youngest  and  him  made  it  up,  and  he 
haz  twenty-live  pounds  in  the  bank,  which  is  a  good  thing  too 
mirover  for  the  young  couple.  It  waz  many  a  one  waz  sayin 
when  the  cows  and  the  sheep  waz  come  home  from  the  sheilings 
that  never  afore  waz  Miss  Sheila  away  from  Lock  Roag  when 
the  cattle  would  be  swimmin  across  the  loch  to  the  island ;  and  I 
will  say  to  many  of  them  verra  well  you  will  wait  and  you  will 
see  Miss  Sheila  back  again  in  the  Lews,  and  it  wazna  allwas 
you  would  lifaway  from  your  own  home  where  you  waz  born 
and  the  people  will  know  you  from  the  one  year  to  the  next. 
John  McNichol  of  Habost  he  will  be  verra  bad  three  months 
or  two  months  ago,  and  we  waz  thinkin  he  will  die,  and  him 
with  a  wife  and  fi.e  bairns  too,  and  four  cows  and  a  cart,  but 
the  doctor  took  a  great  dale  of  blood  from  him,  and  he  is 
now  verra  well  whatever,  though  wakely  on  the  legs.  It 
would  hev  been  a  bad  thing  if  Mr.  McNichol  was  dead,  for 
he  will  be  ver.'-a  good  at  pen  tin  a  door,  and  he  has  between 
fif'.ecn  pounds  and  ten  pounds  in  the  bank  at  Stornoway, 
and  four  cows,  too,  and  a  cart,  and  he  is  a  ferra  religious 
man,  and  has  great  skill  o'  the  p^alm-tunes,  and  he  toesna 
get  trunk  now  more  as  twice  or  as  three  times  in  the  two 
weeks.  It  was  his  dochter  Betsy,  a  verra  fine  lass  that  waz 
come  to  Bjrvabost,  and  it  waz  the  talk  among  many  that 
Alister-nan-each  he  waz  thinkin  of  making  up  to  her, 
but  there  will  be  a  great  laugh  all  over  the  island, 
and  she  will  be  verra  angry  and  say  she  will  not  have 
him,  no,  if  his  house  had  a  door  of  silfer  to  it,  for  she  will 
have  no  one  that  toesna  go  to  the  Caithness  fishins  wi  the 
other  lads.  It  waz  blew  verra  hard  here  the  last  night  or  two 
or  three.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  salmon  in  the  rivers;  and 
Mr.  Mackenzie  he  will  be  going  across  to  Grimersta  the  day 


252  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE, 

after  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day  before  that,  and  the  Eng- 
lish gentlemen  have  been  there  more  as  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  they  will  be  getting  verra  good  sport  whatever.  Mairi 
she  will  bewriten  a  letter  to  you  to-morrow,  Miss  Sheila,  and 
she  will  be  telling  you  all  the  news  of  the  house.  Maiii  was 
sayin  she  will  be  goin  to  London  when  the  harvest  was  got 
in,  and  Scarlett  will  say  to  her  that  no  one  will  let  her  land 
on  the  island  again  if  she  toesna  bring  you  back  with  her  to 
the  island  and  to  your  own  house.  If  it  waz  not  too  much 
trouble.  Miss  Sheila,  it  would  be  a  proud  day  for  Scarlett  if 
you  waz  send  me  a  line  or  two  lines  to  say  if  you  will  be 
coming  to  the  Lews  this  summer  or  before  the  winter  is 
over  whatever.  I  remain.  Honored  Mrs.  Lavender,  your  obe- 
dient servant,  "Duncan  Macdonald." 

"This  summer  or  winter," said  Sheila  to  herself,  with  a 
happy  light  on  her  face:  "why  not  now?"  Why  should  she 
not  go  down  stairs  to  the  coffee-room  of  the  hotel  and 
place  this  invitation  in  the  hand  of  her  husbard  and  his 
friend?  Would  not  its  gar;  ulcus  simplicity  recall  to  both  of 
them  the  island  they  used  to  find  so  pleasant? 
Would  not  they  suddenly  resolve  to  leave  London 
and  its  ways  and  people,  even  this  monotonous  sea  out  there, 
and  speed  away  Northwardly  till  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
great  and  rolling  Minch,  with  its  majestic  breadth  of  sky 
and  its  pale  blue  islands  lying  faraway  at  the  horizon?  Then 
the  happy  landing  at  the  Stornoway — her  father  and  Duncan 
and  Mairi  all  on  the  quay — the  rapid  drive  over  to  Loch 
Roag.  and  the  first  glimpse  of  the  rocky  bays  and  clear 
water  and  white  sand  about  Borva  and  Borvabost!  And 
Sheila  would  once  more — having  cast  aside  this  cumbrous 
attire  that  she  had  to  change  so  ofien,  and  having  got  out 
that  neat  and  simple  costume  that  was  so  good  for  walking 
or  driving  or  sailing — be  proud  to  wait  upon  her  guests, 
and  help  Mairi  in  her  household  ways,  and  have  a  pretty 
table  ready  for  the  gentlemen  when  they  returned  from  the 
shooting. 

Her  husband  came  up  the  hotel  stairs  and  entered  the 
room.  She  rose  to  meet  him,  with  the  open  letter  in  hfer 
hand. 

"  Sheila,"  he  said  (and  the  light  slowly  died  away  from  her 
face),  "  I  have  something  to  ask  of  you." 

She  knew  by  the  sound  of  his  voice  that  she  had  nothing 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 


=  53 


to  hope;  it  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  been  disappointed, 
and  yet  this  time  it  seemed  especially  bitter  somehow.  The 
awakening  from  these  illusions  was  sudden. 

She  did  not  answer,  so  he  said,  in  the  same  measured  voice : 
"I  have  to  ask  that  you  will  have  henceforth  no  communi- 
cation with  Mr.  Ingram;  I  do  not  wish  him  to  come  to  the 
house." 

She  stood  f(  r  a  moment,  apparently  not  understanding  the 
meaning  of  what  he  said.  Then,  when  the  full  force  of  this 
decision  and  request  came  up.  in  her,  a  quick  color  sprang  to 
her  face,  the  cause  of  which,  if  it  had  been  revealed  to  him 
in  words,  would  have  considerably  astonished  her  husband. 
But  that  moment  of  doubt,  of  surprise,  and  of  icnward  indig- 
nation, was  soon  over.  She  cast  down  her  eyes  and  said, 
meekly:     "  Very  well,  dear," 

It  was  now  his  turn  to  be  astonished,  and  mortified  as 
well.  He  could  not  have  believed  it  possible  that  she  should 
so  calmly  acquiesce  in  the  dismissal  of  one  of  her  dearest 
friends.  He  had  expected  a  more  or  less  angry  protest,  if 
not  a  distinct  refusal,  which  would  have  given  him  an  op- 
portunity for  displaying  the  injuries  he  conceived  himself  to 
have  suffered  at  their  hands.  Why  had  she  not  come  to  him- 
self ?  This  man  Ingram  was  presuming  upon  his  ancient 
friendship,  and  on  the  part  he  had  taken  in  forwarding  the 
marriage  up  at  Burva.  He  had  always,  moreover,  been  some- 
what too  much  of  a  schoolmaster,  with  his  severe  judgments, 
his  sententious  fashion  of  criticising  and  warning  people,  and 
his  readine.-s  to  prove  the  whole  world  wrong  in  order  to  show 
himself  to  be  right.  All  these  and  many  other  things  Lav- 
ender meant  to  say  to  Sheila  so  soon  as  she  had  protested 
against  his  forbidding  Ingram  to  come  any  more  to  the 
house.  But  there  was  no  protest.  Sheila  did  not  even 
seem  surprised.  She  went  back  to  her  seat  by  the  window, 
folded  up  Duncan's  letter,  and  put  it  in  her  pocket;  and  then 
she  turned  to  look  at  the  sea. 

Lavender  regarded  her  for  a  moment,  apparently  doubting 
whether  he  should  himself  prosecute  the  subject;  then  he 
turned  and  left  the  room. 

Sheila  did  not  cry  or  otherwise  seek  to  compassionate 
herself.  Her  husband  had  told  her  to  do  a  certain  thing, 
and  she  would  do  it.  Perhaps  she  had  been  imprudent  in 
having  confided  in  Mr.  Ingram,  and  if  so,  it  was  right  that 


254  ^     PRINCESS     OF     TilULE. 

she  should  be  punished.  But  the  regret  and  pain  that  lay 
de>ep  in  her  heart  were  that  Ingram  should  have  suffered 
through  her,  and  that  she  had  no  opportunity  of  telling  him 
that,  though  they  might  not  see  each  other,  she  v  ould  never 
forget  her  friendship  for  him,  or  cease  to  be  grateful  to  him 
for  his  unceasing  and  generous  kindness  to  her. 

Next  morning  Lavender  was  summoned  to  London  by  a 
telegram  which  announced  that  his  aunt  was  seriously  ill. 
He  and  Sheila  got  ready  at  once,  left  by  a  forenoon  train, 
had  some  brief  luncheon  at  home,  and  then  went  to  see  the 
old  lady  in  Kensington  Gore.  During  their  journey  Lavender 
had  been  rather  more  kind  and  courteous  toward  Sheila  than 
was  his  wont.  Was  he  pleased  that  she  had  so  readily 
obeyed  him  in  this  matter  of  giving  up  about  the  only  friend 
she  had  in  London,  or  was  he  moved  by  some  visitation  of 
compunction?  Sheila  tried  to  show  that  she  was  grateful  for 
his  kindness,  but  there  was  that  between  them  which  could 
not  be  removed  by  chance  phrases  or  attentions. 

Mrs.  Lavender  was  in  her  own  room.  Paterson  brought 
word  that  she  wanted  to  see  Sheila  first  alone;  so  Lavender 
sat  down  in  the  gloomy  drawing-room  by  the  window,  and 
watched  the  people  riding  or  driving  past,  and  the  sunshine 
on  the  dusty  green  trees  in  the  Park. 

"  Is  Frank  Lavender  below?"  said  the  thin  old  woman, 
who  was  propped  up  in  bed,  with  some  scarlet  garment 
around  her,  that  made  her  resemble  more  than  ever  the 
cockatoo  of  which  Sheila  had  thought  on  first  seeing  her. 

**  Yes,''  said  Sheila. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  alone.  I  can't  bear  him  dawdling 
about  a  room  and  staring  at  things,  and  saying  nothing. 
Does  he  speak  to  you?" 

Sheila  did  not  wish  to  enter  into  any  controversy  about 
the  habits  of  her  husband,  so  she  said:  "  I  hope  you  will  see 
him  before  he  goes,  Mrs.  Lavender.  He  is  very  anxious  to 
know  how  you  are,  and  I  am  glad  to  find  you  looking  so 
well.     You  do  not  look  like  an  invalid  at  all." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  die  yet,"  said  the  little  dried  old 
woman,  with  the  harsh  voice,  the  staring  eyes,  and  the 
tightly  twisted  gray  hair.  "  I  hope  you  didn't  come  to  read 
the  Bible  to  me  ;  you  wouldn't  find  one  about,  in  any  case,  I 
should  think.  If  you  like  to  sit  down  and  read  the  sayings 
of  the  Emperor  Marcus  Antoninus,  I  should  enjoy  that;  but  I 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


255 


suppose  you  are  too  busy  thinking  what  dress  you'll  wear  at 
my  funeral." 

"Indeed,  I  was  thinking  of  no  such  thing,"  said  Sheila, 
indignantly,  but  feeling  all  the  same  that  the  hard,  glittering, 
expressionless  eyes  were  watching  her. 

"  Do  you  think  I  believe  you  ?"  said  Mrs.  Lavender. 
"Bah  !  I  hope  I  am  able  to  recognize  the  facts  of  life.  If 
you  were  to  die  this  afternoon,  I  should  get  a  black  silk, 
trimmed  with  crape,  the  moment  I  got  on  my  feet  again, 
and  go  to  your  funeral  in  the  ordinary  way.  I  hope  you 
will  pay  me  the  same  respect.  Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  to 
speak  of  these  things  ?" 

'"  Why  should  you  speak  of  them?"  said  Sheila,  despair- 
ingly. 

"  Because  it  doe*,  you  good  to  contemplate  the  worst  that 
can  befall  you,  and  if  it  does  not  happen  you  may  rejoice. 
And  it  will  happen.  1  know  I  shall  be  lying  in  this  bed,  v/ith 
half  a  dozen  of  you  around  about  trying  to  cry,  and  wonder- 
ing which  will  have  the  courage  to  turn  and  go  out  of  the 
room  firs^.  Then  there  will  be  the  funeral  day,  and  Paterson 
will  be  careful  about  the  blinds,  and  go  about  the  house  on 
her  tip-toes,  as  if  I  were  likely  to  hear  !  Then  there  will  be 
a  pretty  service  up  in  the  cemetery,  and  a  man  who  never 
saw  me  will  speak  of  his  dear  sister  departed;  and  then 
you'll  all  go  home  and  have  your  dinner.  Am  I  afraid  of 
it?" 

"  Why  should  you  talk  like  that  ?"  said  Sheila,  piteously. 
*'  You  are  not  going  to  die.  You  distress  yourself  and  others 
by  thinking  of  those  horrible  things." 

"My  dear  child,  there  is  nothing  horrible  in  nature. 
Everything  is  part  of  the  universal  system  which  you  should 
recognize  and  accept.  If  you  had  but  trained  yourself  now, 
by  the  study  of  philosophical  works,  to  know  how  helpless 
you  are  to  alter  the  facis  of  life,  and  how  it  is  the  best  wis- 
dom to  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  you  would  find  nothing 
hoirible  in  thinking  of  your  own  funeral.  You  are  not  look- 
ing well." 

Sheila  was  startled  by  the  suddenness  of  the  announce- 
ment :  "  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  tired  with  the  traveling  we 
have  done  to-day.-' 

"  Is  Frank  Lavender  kind  to  you?" 

What  was  she  to  say  with  those  two  eyes  scanning  her 


256  A    PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

face?     "It  is  too  soon  to  expect  him  to  be  anything  else," 
she  said,  with  an  effort  at  a  smile. 

"Ah!  So  you  are  beginning  to  talk  in  that  way?  I 
thought  you  were  full  of  sentimental  notions  of  life  when  you 
came  to  London.  It  is  not  a  good  place  for  maturing  such 
things.'' 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Sheila,  surprised  into  a  sigh. 

"  Come  nearer.  Don't  be  afraid  I  shall  bite  you.  I  am 
not  so  ferocious  as  I  look." 

Sheila  rose  and  went  closer  to  the  bedside,  and  the  old 
woman  stretched  out  a  lean  and  withered  hand  to  her  :  "If 
I  thought  that  that  silly  fellow  wasn't  behaving  well  to 
you — " 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  you,"  said  Sheila,  suddenly  withdraw- 
ing her  hand,  while  a  quick  color  leapt  to  her  face — "  I  v/ill 
not  listen  to  you  if  you  speak  of  my  husband  in  that  way." 

"  I  will  speak  of  him  any  way  I  like.  Don't  get  into  a  rage. 
I  1  ave  known  Frank  Lavender  a  good  deal  longer  than  you 
have.  "What  I  was  going  to  say  is  this,  that  if  I  thought  he 
was  not  behaving  well  to  you,  I  would  play  him  a  trick.  I 
would  leave  my  money,  which  is  all  h^  has  got  to  live  on,  to 
you;  and  when  I  died  he  would  find  himself  dependent  on 
you  for  every  farthing  he  wanted  to  spend." 

And  the  old  woman  laughed,  with  very  little  of  the  weak- 
ness of  an  invalid  in  the  look  of  her  face.  But  Sheila, 
when  she  had  mastered  her  surprise  and  resolved  not  to  be 
angry,  said  calmly,  "  Whatever  I  have,  whatever  I  might 
have,  that  belongs  to  my  husband,  not  to  me." 

"Now  you  speak  like  a  sensible  girl,"  said  ]\Ir=.  Lavender. 
"  That  is  the  misfortune  of  a  v/ife,  that  she  cannot  keep  her 
own  money  to  herself.  But  there  are  means  by  which  the 
law  may  be  defeated,  my  dear.  I  have  been  ihmking  it 
over — I  have  been  speaking  of  it  to  Mr.  Ingram;  for  I 
have  suspected  for  some  time  that  my  nephew,  Mr.  Frank, 
was  not  behaving  himself." 

"  Mrs.  Lavender,"  said  Sheila,  with  a  face  too  proud  and 
indignant  for  tears,  "you  do  net  understand  me.  No  one 
has  the  right  to  imagine  anything  against  my  husband  and  to 
seek  to  punish  him  through  me.  And  when  I  said  that 
everything  I  have  belongs  to  him,  I  was  not  thinking  of  ths 
law — no — but  only  this:  that  everything  I  have,  or  might 
have,  v/ould  belong  to  hiiu,  as  I  m)'self  belong  to  him,  of  my 


A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  857 

own  free  v/ill  and  gift;  and  I  would  have  no  money  or  any- 
thing else  that  was  not  entirely  his. 

"You  are  a  fool." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Sheila,  struggling  to  repress  her  tears. 

"  What  if  I  were  to  leave  every  farthing  of  my  property  to 
a  hospital?    Where  would  Frank  Lavender  be  then  ? " 

"  He  could  earn  his  own  living  without  any  such  help," 
said  Sheila,  proudly ;  for  she  had  never  yet  given  up  the 
hope  that  her  husband  would  fulfill  the  fair  promise  of  an 
earlier  time,  and  win  great  renown  for  himself  in  striving  to 
please  her,  as  he  had  many  a  time  vowed  he  would  do. 

"  He  has  taken  great  care  to  conceal  his  powers  in  that 
way,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  sneer. 

"And  if  he  has,  whose  fault  is  it?"  the  girl  said,  warmly. 
"Who  has  kept  him  in  idleness  but  yourself?  And  now  you 
blame  him  for  it.  I  wish  he  had  never  had  any  of  j^our 
money — I  wish  he  were  never  to  have  any  more  of  it." 

And  then  Sheila  stopped,  with  a  terrible  dread  falling  over 
her.  What  had  she  not  said  ?  The  pride  of  her  race  had 
carried  her  so  far,  and  she  had  given  expression  to  all  the 
tumult  of  her  heart;  but  had  she  not  betrayed  her  duty  as  a 
wife,  and  grievously  compromised  the  interests  of  her  hus- 
band ?  And  yet  the  indignation  in'  her  bosom  was  too  strong 
to  admit  of  her  retracting  those  fatal  phrases  and  begging  for- 
giveness. She  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute,  and  she  knew 
that  the  invalid  was  regarding  her  curiously,  as  though  she 
were  some  wild  animal,  and  not  an  ordinary  resident  in 
Bayswater. 

"You  are  a  little  mad,  but  you  are  a  good  girl,  and  I  want 
to  be  friends  with  you.  You  have  in  you  the  spirit  of  a 
dozen  Frank  Lavenders." 

"  You  will  never  make  friends  with  me  by  speaking  ill  of 
my  husband,"  said  Sheila,with  the  same  proud  and  indignant 
look. 

'•  Not  when  he  ill-uses  you  ?  '* 

"  He  does  not  ill-use  me.  What  has  Mr.  Ingram  been 
saying  to  you?" 

The  sudden  question  would  certainly  have  brought  about 
a  disclosure  it  any  were  to  have  been  made;  but  Mr?.  Laven- 
der assured  Sheila  that  Mr.  Ingram  had  told  her  nothing, 
that  she  had  been  forming  her  own  conclusions,  and  that  she 
still  doubted  that  they  were  right. 


2^8  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  Now  sit  down  and  read  to  me.  You  will  find  Marcus 
Antoninus  on  tlie  top  of  those  books." 

"  Frank  is  in  the  drawing-room,"  observed  Sheila,  mildly. 

"  He  can  wait,"  said  the  old  woman,  sharply. 

"Yes,  but  you  cannot  expect  me  to  keep  him  waiting," 
with  a  smile  which  did  not  conceal  her  very  definite  pur- 
pose. 

'•  Then  ring,  and  bid  him  come  up.  You  will  soon  get  rid 
of  those  absurd  sentiments." 

Sheila  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  Mrs.  Paterson  down  for 
Lavender,  but  she  did  not  betake  herself  to  Marcus  Antoni- 
nus. She  waited  a  few  minutes,  and  then  her  husband  m.ade 
his  appearance,  whereupon  she  sat  down  and  left  to  him  the 
agreeable  duty  of  talking  with  this  toothless  old  heathen 
about  funerals  and  lingering  death. 

"Well,  Aunt  Lavender,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  have  been 
ill,  but  I  suppose  you  are  getting  all  right  again,  to  judge  by 
your  looks.'' 

"  I  am  not  nearly  as  ill  as  you  expected." 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  say  '  hoped,'"  remxarked  Laven- 
der, carelessly.  "You  are  always  attributing  the  most  char- 
itable feelings  to  your  fellow-creatures." 

"Frank  Lavender,"  said  the  old  lady,  who  was  a  little 
pleased  by  this  bit  of  flattery,  "if  you  come  here  to  make 
yourself  impertinent  and  disagreeable,  you  can  go  down- 
stairs again.     Your  wife  and  I  get  on  very  well  without  you.'* 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  said:  '•  I  suppose  you  have 
been  telling  her  what  is  the  matter  with  you." 

"  I  have  not.  I  don't  know.  I  have  had  a  pain  in  the 
head  and  two  fits,  and  I  dare  say  the  next  will  carry  me  off. 
The  doctors  won't  tell  me  anything  about  it,  so  I  suppose  it 
is  serious." 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Lavender.  "Serious!  To  look  at 
you  one  would  say  you  never  had  been  ill  in  your  life." 

"  Don't  tell  stories,  Frank  Lavender.  I  know  I  look  like  a 
corpse,  but  I  don't  mind  it,  for  I  avoid  the  looking-glass, 
and  keep  the  spectacle  for  my  friends.  I  expect  the  next  fit 
will  kill  me." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Aunt  Lavender,  if  you  would  only 
get  up  and  come  with  us  for  a  drive  in  the  Park,  you  would 
find  there  was  nothing  of  an  invalid  about  you;  and  we 
should  take  you  home  to  a  quiet  dinner  at  Notting  Hiilj  and 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  259 

Sheila  would  sing  to  you  all  the  evening,  and  to-morrow  you 
would  receive  the  doctors  in  state  in  your  dravnng-rocrns, 
and  leU  them  you  v/ere  going  for  a  month  tj  Malvern." 

"Your  husband  has  a  fine  imagination,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Lavender  to  Sheila.  "It  is  a  pity  he  puis  it  to  no  use. 
Now  I  shall  let  both  of  you  go.  Three  breathing  in  this 
room  are  too  many  for  the  cubic  feet  of  air  it  contains. 
Frank,  bring  over  those  scales  and  put  them  on  the  table, 
and  send  Paterson  to  me  as  you  go  out." 

And  so  they  went  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  house.  Just 
as  they  s'ood  on  the  steps,  looking  for  a  hansom,  a  young  lad 
came  forward  and  shouk  hands  with  Lavender,  glancing 
nervously  at  Sheila. 

"  Well,  Mosenberg,"  said  T^avender,  "  you've  come  back 
from  Leipsic  at  last?  We  got  your  card  when  we  came 
home  this  morning  from  Brighton.  Let  me  introduce  you 
to  my  wife." 

The  boy  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  before  him  v/ith 
something  of  a  distant  wonder  and  reverence  in  his  regard. 
Sheila  had  heard  of  the  lad  before — of  the  Mendelssohn  that 
was  to  be — and  liked  his  appearance  at  first  sight.  He  was 
a  rather  handsome  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  of  the  fair  Jew 
type,  with  large,  dark,  expressive  eyes,  and  long,  wavy, 
light-brown  hair.  He  spoke  English  fluently  and  well;  his 
slight  German  accent  was,  indeed,  scarcely  lo  distinct  as 
Sheila's  Highland  one,  the  chief  peculiarity  of  his  speaking 
being  a  preference  for  short  sentences,  as  if  he  were  afraid  to 
venture  upon  elaborate  English.  He  had  not  addressed  a 
dozen  sentences  to  Siieila  before  she  had  begun  to  have  a 
liking  for  the  lad,  perhaps  on  account  of  his  soft  and  mu- 
sical voice,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  respectful  and  almost 
wondering  admiration  that  dwelt  in  his  eyes.  He  spoke  to 
her  as  if  she  were  some  saint,  who  had  but  to  smile  to  charm 
and  bewilder  the  humble  worshipper  at  her  shrine. 

*'  I  was  intending  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Lavender,  madame," 
he  said.  "  I  heard  that  she  was  ill.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me 
if  she  is  better." 

"She  seems  to  be  very  well  to-day,  and  in  very  good 
spirits,"  Sheila  answered. 

"  Then  I  will  not  go  in.  Did  you  propose  to  take  a  walk  in 
the  Park,  madame?" 

Lavender  inwardly  laughed  at  the  audacity  of  the  lad,  and. 


26o  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

seeing  that  Sheila  hesitated,  humored  him  by  saying,  "  Well, 
we  were  thinking  of  calling  on  one  or  two  people  before  going 
home  to  dinner.  But  1  haven't  seen  you  for  a  long  time, 
Mosenberg,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  how  you  succeeded  at 
the  Conservatoire.  If  you  like  to  walk  with  us  for  a  bit,  we 
can  give  you  somethmg  to  eat  at  seven." 

"  That  would  be  very  pleasant  for  me,"  said  the  boy, 
blushing  somewhat,  ''if  it  does  not  incommode  you, 
madame  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  I  hope  you  will  come,"  said  Sheila,  most  hearti- 
ly; and  so  they  set  out  for  a  walk  through  Kensington  Gar- 
dens, northward. 

Preciouj  little  did  Livender  learn  about  Leipsic  during 
that  walk.  The  boy  devoted  himself  wholly  to  Sheila,  He 
had  heard  frequently  of  her,  and  he  knew  of  her  coming  from 
the  wild  and  romantic  Hebrides;  and  he  began  to  tell  her  of 
all  the  experiments  that  composers  had  made  in  representing 
the  sound  of  seas  and  storms,  and  winds  how^ling  through 
caverns  washed  by  the  waves.  Lavender  liked  music  w^ell 
enough,  and  could  himself  play  and  sing  a  litile,  but  this  en- 
thusiasm rather  bored  him.  He  wanted  to  know  if  the  yel- 
low wine  was  still  as  cool  and  clear  as  ever  down  in  the 
twilight  of  Auerbach's  cellar,  what  burlesques  had  lately  been 
played  at  the  theatre,  and  whether  such  and  such  a  beer- 
garden  was  still  to  the  fore;  whereas,  he  heard  only  analyses 
of  overtures,  and  descriptions  of  the  uses  of  particular  musical 
instruments,  and  a  wild  rhapsody  about  moonlit  seas,  the 
sweetness  of  French  horns,  the  King  of  Thule,  and  a  dozen 
other  matters. 

" Mosenberg,"  he  said,  "before  you  go  calling  on  people 
you  ought  to  visit  an  English  tailor.  People  will  think  you 
belong  to  a  German  band." 

"  I  have  been  to  a  tailor,"  said  the  lad,  with  a  frank  laugh. 
"  My  parents,  madame,  wish  me  to  be  quite  English;  that  is 
why  I  am  sent  to  live  in  London,  while  they  are  in  Frank- 
fjrt.  I  stay  with  som.e  very  good  friends  of  mine,  who  are 
very  musical,  and  they  are  not  annoyed  by  my  practising,  as 
other  people  would  be." 

"  I  hope  you  will  sing  something  to  us  this  evening,"  said 
Sheila. 

"I  will  sing  and  play  for  you  all  the  evening,"  he  said, 
I'ghiiy,  "  until  you  are  tired.     B  it  you  must  tell  me  when  you 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  261 

are  tired,  foi  who  can  tell  how  much  music  will  be  enough  ? 
Sometimes  two  or  three  songs  are  more  than  enough  to  make 
people  wish  you  away." 

"You  need  have  no  fear  of  tiring  me,"  said  Sheila.  "  But 
when  you  are  tired  I  will  sing  for  you." 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  sing,  madame,"  he  said,  casting  down 
his  eyes:  "  I  knew  that  when  1  saw  you." 

Sheila  had  got  a  sweetheart,  and  Lavender  savi^  it  and 
smiled  good-naturedly.  The  a>,ve  and  reverence  with  which 
this  lad  regarded  the  beautiful  woman  beside  him,  was 
something  new  and  odd  in  Kensington  Gardens.  Yet  it  was 
the  way  of  those  boys.  He  had  himself  had  his  imaginative  fits 
of  worship,  in  which  some  very  ordinary  young  woman,  who 
ate  a  good  breakfast  and  spent  an  hour  and  a  half  in  arrang- 
ing her  hair  before  going  out,  was  regarded  as  some  beauti- 
ful goddess  fresh  risen  from  the  sea,  or  decended  from  the 
clouds.  Young  Mosenberg  was  just  at  the  proper  age  for 
these  foolish  dreams.  He  could  sing  songs  to  Sheila,  and 
reveal  to  her  in  that  way  a  passion  of  which  he  dared  not 
otherwise  speak.  He  would  compose  pieces  of  music  for 
her,  and  dedicate  them  to  her,  and  spend  half  his  quarterly 
allowance  in  having  them  printed.  He  would  grow  to  con- 
sider him,  Lavender,  a  heartless  brute,  and  cherish  dark 
notions  of  poisoning  him,  but  for  the  pain  it  might  cause  to 
her. 

•'  I  don't  remember  whether  you  smoke,  Mosenberg," 
Lavender  said,  after  dinner. 

"  Yes — a  cigarette  sometimes,"  said  the  lad;  "  but  if  Mrs. 
Lavender  is  going  away  perhaps  she  will  let  me  go  into  the 
drawing-room  with  her.  There  is  that  sonata  of  Muzio  Cle- 
menti,  madame,  which  I  will  try  to  remember  for  you  if  you 
please.'' 

"All  right,"  said  Lavender;  "  you'll  find  me  in  the  next 
room  on  the  left  when  you  will  get  tired  of  your  music  and 
want  a  cigar.  I  think  vou  used  to  beat  me  at  chess,  didn't 
you?" 

"  I  do  not  know.     We  will  try  once  more  to-night." 

Then  Sheila  and  he  went  into  the  drawing-room  by  them- 
selves, and  while  she  took  a  seat  near  the  brightly-lit  fire- 
place, he  opened  the  piano  at  once  and  sat  down.  He 
turned  up  his  cuffs,  he  took  a  look  at  the  pedals,  he  threw 
back  his  head,  shaking  hia  long  brown  hair;  and  then,  with 


262  A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

a  crash  like  thunder,  his  two  hands  struck  the  keys.  He  had 
forgotten  all  about  that  sonata;  it  was  a  fantasia  of  his  own, 
based  on  the  airs  in  Der  Freischuiz,  that  he  played;  and  as 
he  played  Sheila's  poor  little  piano  suffered  somewhat.  Never 
before  had  it  been  so  battered  about,  and  she  v,'ished  the  small 
chamber  were  a  great  hall  to  temper  the  voluminous  noise  of 
this  opening  passage.  But  presently  the  music  softened. 
The  white,  lithe  fingers  ran  lightly  over  the  keys,  so  that  the 
notes  seemed  to  ripple  out  like  the  prattling  of  a  stream,  and 
then  again  some  stately  and  majestic  air  or  some  joyous 
burst  of  song  would  break  upon  this  light  accompaniment, 
and  lead  up  to  another  roar  and  rumble  of  noise.  It  was  a 
very  fine  performance,  doubtless,  but  what  Sheila  remarked 
most  was  the  enthusiasm  of  the  lad.  She  was  to  see  more  of 
that. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "that  is  nothing.  It  is  to  get  one's  fin- 
gers accustomed  to  the  keys  you  play  anything  that  is  loud 
and  rapid.  But  if  you  please,  madame,  shall  I  sing  you 
something? ' 

"Yes,  do,''  said  Sheila. 

"  I  will  sing  for  you  a  little  German  song  which,  I  believe, 
Jenny  Lind  used  to  sing;  but  I  never  heard  her  sing.  You 
know  German  ?" 

"  Very  little,   indeed." 

"  This  is  only  the  cry  of  some  one  who  is  far  away  about 
his  sweetheart.  It  is  very  simple,  both  in  the  v/ords  and  the 
music." 

And  he  began  to  sing,  in  a  voice  so  rich,  so  tender  and  ex- 
pressive that  Sheila  sat  amazed  and  bewildered  to  hear  him. 
Where  had  this  boy  caught  such  a  trick  of  passion,  or  was  it 
really  a  trick  that  , threw  into  his  voice  all  the  pathos  of  a 
strong  man's  love  and  grief?  He  had  a  powerful  baritone, 
of  unusual  compass  and  rare  sweetness;  but  it  was  not  the 
finely-trained  art  of  his  singing,  but  the  passionate  abandon- 
ment of  it,  that  thrilled  Sheila,  and,  indeed,  brought  tears  to 
her  eyes.  How  had  this  mere  lad  learned  all  the  yearning 
and  despair  of  love  that  he  sang  ? 

Dir  debt  die  Brust, 

Dir  schlagt  dies  Her«. 

Du  meine  Lust ! 

O  du,  intia  Schraerz  ! 
Nur  an  den  Winden,  den  Stcmen  Ac.x  KOh, 
Muss  ich  verkiinden  main  -us3es  Weh  ! — 


A   PRINCESS   OF  TIIULE.  263 

as  though  his  heart  were  breaking?  When  he  had  finished 
he  paused  for  a  moment  or  two  before  leaving  the  piano,  and 
then  he  came  over  to  where  Sheila  sat.  She  fancied  there 
was  a  strange  look  in  h.is  face,  as  of  one  who  had  been  really  .■ 
experiencing  the  wild  emotions  of  which  he  sang;  but  he  said, 
in  his  ordinar)',  careful  wa}'-  of  speaking,  "  Madame,  I  am 
sorry  I  cannot  translate  the  words  for  you  into  English. 
They  are  too  simple;  and  they  have,  what  is  common  in  most 
German  songs,  a  mingling  of  the  pleasure  and  the  sadness  of 
being  in  love,  that  would  not  read  natural  perhaps  in  Eng- 
lish. When  he  says  to  her  that  she  is  his  greatest  delight 
and  also  his  greatest  grief,  it  is  quite  right  in  the  German, 
but  not  in  the  English." 

"But  where  have  you  learned  all  these  things?"  she  said 
to  him,  talking  to  him  as  if  he  were  a  mere  child,  and  look- 
ing without  fear  into  his  handsome  boyish  face  and  fine 
eyes.  "  Sit  down  and  tell  me.  That  is  the  song  of  some 
one  whose  sweetheart  is  far  away,  you  said.  But  you  sang  it 
as  if  you  yourself  had  some  sweetheart  far  away," 

"Sol  have,  madame,"  he  said,  seriously:  "when  I  sing 
the  song,  I  think  of  her  then,  so  that  I  almost  cry  for  her." 

"  And  who  is  she?"  said  Sheila,  gently.  Is  she  very  far 
away?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  lad,  absently.  "I  do  not 
know  who  she  is.  Sometimes  I  think  she  is  a  beautiful 
\\om.n  away  at  St.  Petersburg,  singing  in  the  opera  house 
tlur-.     Or  I  think  she  has  sailed  away   in  a  ship  from  me." 

"  But  you  do  not  sing  about  any  particular  person?"  said 
Sheila,  with  an  innocent  wonder  appearing  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no, not  at  all,"  said  the  boy;  and  then  he  added, 
with  some  suddeness,  "Do  you  think,  madame,  any  fine 
songs  like  that,  or  any  fine  words  that  go  to  the  heart  of  peo- 
ple are  written  about  any  one  person?  Oh,  no  !  The  man 
has  a  great  desire  in  him  to  say  something  beautiful  or  sad, 
and  he  says  it — not  to  one  person,  but  to  all  the  world;  and 
all  the  world  takes  it  from  h  m  as  a  gift.  Sometimes,  yes,  he 
wdl  think  of  one  woman,  or  he  will  dedicate  the  music  to 
her,  or  he  will  compose  it  for  her  wedding,  but  the  feeling  in 
his  heart  is  greater  than  any  that  he  has  for  her.  Can  you 
believe,  madame,  that  Mendelssohn  wrote  the  Hochzeitm — 
the  Wedding  March — for  any  one  wedding  ?  No.  It  was 
all  the  marriage  joy  of  the  world  he  put  into  his  music,  and 


S64  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

every  one  knows  that.  And  you  hear  it  at  this  wedding,  at 
that  wedding,  but  you  know  it  belongs  to  something  far 
av.-ay  and  more  beautiful  than  the  marriage  of  any  one  bride 
with  her  sweetheart.  And  if  you  will  pardon  me,  madame, 
speaking  about  myself,  it  is  about  some  one  I  never  knew,  who 
is  far  more  beautiful  and  precious  to  me  than  any  one  I  ever 
knew,  that  I  try  to  think  when  I  sing  these  sad  songs,  and 
then  I  think  of  her  far  away,  and  not  likely  ever  to  see  me 
again." 

"  But  some  day  you  will  find  that  you  have  met  her  in  real 
life,'*  Sheila  said.  ••'And  you  will  find  her  f.ir  more  beautiful 
and  kind  to  you  than  anything  you  dreamed  about ;  and  you 
will  try  to  \yrite  your  b.  st  music  to  give  to  her.  And  then, 
if  you  should  be  unhappy,  you  will  find  how  much  worse  is 
the  real  unhappiness  about  one  you  love  than  the  sentiment 
of  a  song  you  can  lay  aside  at  any  moment." 

The  lad  looked  at  her.  "  What  can  you  know  about  un- 
happiness, madame?"  he  said,  with  a  frank  and  gentle  sim- 
plicity that  she  liked. 

"I,"  said  Sheila.  "  When  people  get  married  and  begin  to 
experience  the  cares  of  the  world,  they  must  expect  to  be 
unliappy  sometimes.'' 

''  But  not  you,"  he  said,  with  some  touch  of  protest  in  his 
voice,  as  if  it  were  impossible  the  world  should  deal  harshly 
with  so  young  and  beautiful  and  tender  a  creature.  "You 
can  have  nothing  but  enjoyment  around  you.  Every  one 
must  try  to  please  you.  You  need  only  condescend  to 
speak  to  people,  and  they  are  grateful  to  you  for  a  great  fa- 
vor.    Perhaps,  madame,  you  think  I  am  impertinent?" 

He  stopped  and  blushed,  while  Sheila,  herself  with  a  little 
touch  of  color,  answered  him  that  she  hoped  he  would  al- 
ways speak  to  her  quite  frankly,  and  then  suggested  that  he 
might  sing  once  more  for  her. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down  to  the  piano:  "this 
is  not  any  more  a  sad  song.  It  is  about  a  young  lady  who 
will  not  let  her  sweetheart  kiss  her,  except  on  conditions. 
You  shall  hear  the  conditions,  and  what  he  says." 

Sheila  began  to  wonder  whether  this  innocent-eyed  lai 
had  been  imposing  on  her.  The  song  was  acted  as  well  as 
sung.  It  consisted  chiefly  of  a  dialogue  between  the  two 
lovers;  and  the  boy,  with  a  wonderful  ease  and  grace  and 
skill,  mimicked  the  shy  coquetries  of  the  girl,  her  fits  of  petu- 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  265 

lance  and  dictation,  and  the  pathetic  remonstrances  of  her 
companion,  his  humble  entreaties  and  his  final  sullenness, 
which  is  only  conquered  by  her  sudden  and  ample  consent. 
"Whit  a  rare  faculty  of  artistic  representation  this  preco- 
cious boy  must  have,"  she  thought,  "if  he  really  exhibits  all 
those  moods  and  whims  and  tricks  of  manner  without  having 
himself  been  in  the  position  of  the  despairing  and  imploring 
lover  !" 

"You  were  not  thinking  of  the  beautiful  lady  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg when  you  were  singing  just  now,"  Sheila  said,  on 
his  coming  back  to  her. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  carelessly;  "that  is  nothing.  You 
have  not  to  imagine  anything.  These  people,  you  see  them 
on  every  stage  in  the  comedies  and  farces." 

"But  that  might  happen  in  actual  life,"  said  Sheila,  still 
not  quite  sure  about  him.  "Do  you  know  that  many  people 
would  think  you  must  have  yourself  been  teased  in  that  way, 
or  ycu  could  not  imitate  it  so  naturally  ?" 

•'  I!  Oh,  no,  madame,"  he  said,  seriously;  "I  should  not 
act  that  way  if  I  were  in  love  with  a  woman.  If  I  found  her 
a  comedy-actress,likingto  make  lier  amusement  out  of  our  rela- 
tions, I  should  say  to  ler:  '  Gcod-evening,  mademoiselle; 
we  have  both  made  a  little  mistake.'  " 

"But  you  might  be  so  much  in  love  with  her  that  you 
could  not  leave  her  without  being  very  miserable." 

'•  1  might  be  very  much  in  love  with  her,  yes;  but  I  would 
rather  go  away  and  be  miserable  than  be  humiliated  by  such 
a  girl.  Why  do  you  smile,  madame  ?  Do  you  think  I  am 
vain,  or  that  I  am  too  young  to  know  anything  about  that? 
Perhaps  both  are  true,  but  one  cannot  help  thinking." 

"  Well,"  said  Sheila,  with  a  granoly  maternal  air  of  sym- 
pathy and  interest,  "you  must  always  remember  this— tliat 
you  have  something  more  important  to  attend  to  than  merely 
looking  out  for  a  beautiful  sweetheart.  That  is  the  fancy 
of  a  foolish  girl.  You  have  your  profession,  and  you  must 
become  great  and  famous  in  that;  and  then  some  day,  when 
you  meet  this  beautiful  woman  and  ask  her  to  be  your  wife, 
she  will  be  bound  to  do  that,  and  you  will  confer  honor  on 
her  as  well  as  secure  happiness  to  yourself.  Now,  if  you 
were  to  fall  in  love  with  some  coquettish  girl  like  her  you 
were  singing  about,  you  would  have  no  more  ambition  to  be- 
come famous,  you  would  lose  all  interest  in  everything  except 


266  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

her,  and  she  would  be  able  to  make  you  miserable  by  a  single 
word.  When  you  have  made  a  name  for  yourself,  and  got  a 
good  many  more  years,  you  will  be  better  able  to  bear  any- 
thing that  happens  to  you  in  your  love  or  in  your  marriage." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  take  so  much  trouble,"  said  young 
Mosenberg,  looking  up  with  big,  grateful  eyes. 

"Perhaps,  madame,  if  you  are  not  very  busy  during  the 
day,  you  will  let  me  call  in  sometimes,  and  if  there  is  no  one 
here  1  will  tell  you  about  what  lam  doing,  and  play  for  you 
or  sing  for  you,  if  you  please." 

"  In  the  afternoons  I  am  always  free,"  she  said. 

"Do  you  never  go  out  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  often.  My  husband  is  at  his  studio  most  of  the 
day.'' 

The  boy  looked  at  her,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  with  a  sudden  rush  of  color  to  his  face,  "  You  should 
not  stay  so  much  in  the  house.  Will  you  some- 
times go  for  a  little  walk  with  me,  madame,  to  Kensington 
Gardens,  if  you  are  not  busy  in  the  afternoon  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Sheila,  without  a  moment's  em- 
barrassment.    "  Do  you  live  near  them  ?" 

"No;  I  live  in  Sloane  Street,  but  the  underground 
railways  brings  me  here  in  a  very  short  time." 

That  mention  of  Sloan  e  Street  gave  a  twinge  to  Sheila's 
heart.  Ought  she  have  been  so  ready  to  accept  offers  of 
new  friendship  just  as  her  old  friend  had  been  banished 
from  her  ? 

"  In  Sloane  Street?     Do  you  know  Mr.  Ingram?" 

"  Oh  yes,  very  well.     Do  you  ?" 

"He  is  one  of  my  oldest  friends,"  said  Sheila,  bravely; 
she  would  not  acknowledge  that  their  intim.acy  was  a  thing 
of  the  past. 

"  He  is  a  very  good  friend  to  me — I  know  that,"  said 
young  Mosenberg,  v/ith  a  laugh.  "  He  hired  a  piano  merely 
because  I  used  to  go  into  his  rooms  at  night;  and  now  he 
makes  me  play  over  my  most  difficult  music  when  I  go  in, 
and  he  sits  and  smokes  a  pipe  and  pretends  to  like  it.  I  do 
not  think  he  does,  but  I  have  got  to  do  it  all  the  same,  and 
then  afterward  I  sing  for  him  songs  that  I  know  he  likes. 
Madame,  I  think  I  can  surprise  you." 

He  went  to  the  piano  and  began  to  sing,  in  a  very  quiet 
way: 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  267 

Oh  soft  be  thy  slumbers  by  Tigh-na-linne's  waters; 

Thy  late-wake  was  sung  by  MacDiarmid's  fair  daughters; 

But  far  in  Lochaber  the  true  heart  was  weeping. 

Whose  hopes  are  entombed  in  the  grave  where  thou'rt  sleeping. 

It  was  the  lament  of  the  young  girl  whose  lover  had  been 
separated  from  her  by  false  reports,  and  who  died  before  he 
could  get  back  to  Lochaber  when  the  deception  was  dis- 
covered. And  the  wild,  sad  air  the  girl  is  supposed  to  sing 
seemed  so  strange  with  those  new  chords  that  this  boy-musi- 
cian gave  it,  that  Sheila  sat  down  and  listened  co  it  as 
though  it  were  the  sound  of  the  seas  about  Borva  coming  to 
her  with  a  new  voice  and  finding  her  altered  and  a  stranger. 

"  I  know  nearly  all  of  those  Highland  songs  that  Mr.  In- 
gram has  got,"  said  the  lad. 

''  I  did  not  know  that  he  had  any,"  Sheila  said. 

'•'Sometimes  he  tries  to  sing  one  himself,"  said  the  boy, 
with  a  smile,  "  but  he  does  not  sing  very  well  and  he  gets 
vexed  with  himself  in  fun.  and  flings  things  about  the  room. 
But  you  will  sing  some  of  these  songs  madame,  and  let  me 
hear  how  they  are  sung  in  the  North?" 

"  Some  time,  '  said  Sheila,  "  I  would  rather  listen  just  now 
to  all  you  can  tell  me  of  Mr.  Ingram — he  is  such  a  very  old 
friend  of  mine,  and  I  do  not  know  how  he  lives." 

The  lad  speedily  discovered  that  there  was  at  least  one 
way  of  keeping  his  new  and  beautiful  friend  profoundly  in- 
terested; and,  indeed,  he  went  on  talking  until  Lovendtr 
came  into  the  room  in  evening  dress.  It  was  eleven  o'clock, 
and  young  Mosenberg  started  up  v/ith  a  thousand  apologie:: 
and  hopes  that  he  had  not  detained  Mrs.  Lavender.  No, 
Mrs.  Lavender  was  not  going  out ;  her  husband  was  going 
around  for  an  hour  to  a  ball  that  Mrs.  Kavanagh  was  giving, 
but  she  preferred  to  stay  at  home. 

"  May  I  call  upon  you  to-morrow  afternoon,  madame?" 
sa'd  the  boy,  as  he  was  leaving. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will,"  Sheila  answered. 

And  as  he  went  along  the  pavement  young  Mosenberg  ob- 
served  to  his  companion  that  Mrs.  Lavender  did  not  seem  to 
have  gone  out  much,  and  that  it  was  very  good  of  her  to 
have  promised  to  go  with  him  occasionally  into  Kensington 
Gjrdens, 

"  Oh,  has  she  ?"  said  Lavender. 

"Yes,"  said  Uk'  lal,  wi;h  some  su'prise. 


268  A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

"  You  are  lucky  to  be  able  to  get  her  to  leave  the  house," 
her  husband  said  ;  "I  can't," 

Perhaps  he  had  not  tried  so  much  as  the  words  seemed  to 
imply. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GUESSES. 

**  Mr.  Ingram,"  cried  young  Mosenberg,  bursting  into  the 
room  of  his  friend,  "  do  you  know  that  I  have  seen  your 
princess  from  the  island  of  the  Atlantic  ?  Yes,  I  met  her 
yesterday,  and  I  went  up  to  the  house,  and  I  dined  there  and 
spent  all  the  evening  there." 

Ingram  was  not  surprised,  nor,  apparently,  much  inter- 
ested. He  was  cutting  open  the  leaves  of  a  quarterly  review, 
and  a  freshly-filled  pipe  l^y  on  the  table  beside  hmi.  A  fire 
had  been  lit,  for  the  evenings  were  getting  chill  occasional- 
ly; the  shutters  were  shut;  there  was  some  whiskey  on  the 
table;  so  that  this  small  apartment  seemed  to  have  its  share 
of  bachelor's  comforts. 

"  Well,"  said  Ingram  quietly,  "  did  you  play  for  her?" 

"Yes." 

"And  sing  for  her,  too?"' 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  play  and  sing  your  very  best  for  her?" 

"  Yes,  I  did.  But  I  have  not  told  you  half  yet.  This  aft- 
ernoon I  went  up,  and  she  went  out  for  a  walk  with  me;  and 
we  went  down  through  Kensington  Gardens,  and  ail  around 
by  the  Serpentine — " 

"Did  she  go  into  that  parade  of  people?"  said  Ingram, 
looking  up  with  some  surprise. 

"No,"  said  the  lad,  looking  rather  crestfallen,  for  he 
would  have  liked  to  show  off  Sheila  to  some  of  his  friends; 
"she  would  not  go;  she  preferred  to  watch  the  small  boats 
on  the  Serpentine,  and  she  was  very  kind,  too,  in  speaking 
to  the  children,  and  helping  them  with  their  boats,  although 
some  people  stared  at  her.  And  what  is  more  than  all  these 
things,  to-raorrow  night  she  comes  with  me  to  a  concert  in 
ihi  S\  James'  Hall— yes." 

'•You  a.o  very  fortunate,"   said    Ingram,  with  a  smile,  for 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  »6g 

he  was  well  pleased  to  hear  that  Sheila  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
the  boy,  and  was  likely  to  find  his  society  amusing.  "  But 
you  have  not  told  me  yet  what  you  think  of  her." 

"  What  I  think  of  her?''  said  the  lad,  pausing  in  a  be- 
wildered way,  as  if  he  could  find  no  words  to  express  his 
opinion  of  Sheila.  And  then  he  said  suddenly,  "  I  ttiink  she 
is  like  the  Mother  of  God." 

"You  irreverent  young  rascal  !"  said  Ingram,  lighting  his 
pipe,  "  how  dare  you  say  such  a  thing? 

**  I  mean  in  the  pictures — in  the  tall  pictures  you  see 
in  some  churches  abroad,  far  up  in  a  half  darkness.  She 
has  the  same  sweet,  compassionate  look,  and  her  eyes  are 
sometimes  a  little  sad;  and  when  she  speaks  to  you,  you  think 
you  have  known  her  for  a  long  time,  and  that  she  wishes  to 
be  very  kind  to  you.  But  she  is  not  a  princess  at  all,  as  you 
told  me.  I  expected  to  find  her  a  grand,  haughty,  willful — yes; 
but  she  is  much  too  friendly  for  that;  and  when  she  laughs 
you  see  she  could  not  sweep  about  a  room  and  stare  at  peo- 
ple.    But  if  she  was  angry  or  proud,  perhaps  then — " 

"  See  you  don't  make  her  angry,  then,"  said  Ingram. 
"  Now  go  and  play  over  all  you  were  practicing  in  the  morn- 
ing. No  ?  stop  a  bit.  Sit  down  and  tell  me  something  more 
about  your  experiences  of  Shei — of  Mrs.  Lavender." 

Young  Mosenberg  laughed,  and  sat  down ;  "Do  you  know, 
Mr.  Ingram,  that  the  same  thing  occured  the  night  before 
last?  I  was  about  to  sing  some  more,  or  I  was  asking  Mrs. 
Lavender  to  sing  some  more — I  forget  which — but  she  said 
to  me, '  Not  just  now.  I  wish  you  to  sit  down  and  tell  me 
all  you  know  about  Mr.  Ingram.' " 

"And  she  no  sooner  honors  you  with  her  confidence  than 
you  carry  it  to  every  one  ?"  said  Ingram,  somewhat  fearful 
of  the  boy's  tongue. 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  the  lad,  delighted  to  see  that  his 
friend  was  a  little  embarrassed;  "as  to  that,  I  believe  she 
is  in  love  with  you.'' 

"  Mosenberg,"  said  Ingram  with  a  flash  of  anger  in  the 
dark  eyes,  "if  you  were  half  a  dozen  years  older  I  would 
thrash  the  life  out  of  you.  Do  you  think  that  is  a  pretty 
sort  of  joke  to  make  about  a  woman  ?  Don't  you  know 
the  mischief  your  gabbling  tongue  might  make?  for  how  is 
every  one  to  know  that  you  are  talking  merely  impertinent 
non'je^sie  ?" 


270  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

*' Oh/' said  the  boy,  audaciously,  "I  did  not  mean  any- 
thing of  the  kind  you  see  in  comedies  or  in  operas,  breaking 
up  marriages  and  causing  duels.  Oh,  no.  I  think  she  is  in 
love  with  you,  as  I  am  in  love  with  her;  and  I  am,  ever  since 
yesterday." 

"  Well,  I  will  say  this  for  you,"  remarked  Ingram,  slowly, 
"  that  you  are  the  cheekiest  young  beggar  I  have  the  pleasure 
to  know.  You  are  in  love  v/ith  her,  are  you?  A  lady  admits 
you  to  her  house,  is  particularly  kind  to  you,  talks  to  you  in 
confidence,  and  then  you  go  and  tell  people  you  are  in  love 
with  her  !" 

"I  did  not  tell  people,"  said  Mosenberg,  flushing  under 
the  severity  of  the  reproof;  "I  told  you  only,  and  I  thought 
you  would  understand  what  I  meant.  I  should  have  told 
Lavender  himself  just  as  soon — yes  ;  only  he  would  not  care." 

"  How  do  you  know?" 

*•' Bah  !"  said  the  boy,  impatiently.  "Cannot  one  see  it  ? 
You  have  a  pretty  wife — much  prettier  than  any  one  you 
would  see  at  a  ball  at  Mrs.  Kavaiiagh's — and  you  leave  her 
at  home,  and  you  go  to  the  bail  to  amuse  yourself." 

This  iDoy,  Ingram  perceived,  was  getting  to  see  too  clearly 
how  matters  stood.  He  bade  him  go  and  play  some  mufcic, 
having  first  admonished  him  gravely  about  the  necessity  of 
keeping  some  watch  and  ward  over  his  tongue.  Then  the 
pipe  was  re-lit,  and  a  fury  of  sound  arose  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room. 

So  Lavender,  forgetful  of  the  true-hearted  girl  who  loved 
him,  forgetful  of  his  own  generous  instincts,  forgetful  of  the 
future  that  his  fine  abilities  promised,  was  still  dangling  after 
this  alien  woman,  and  Sheila  was  left  at  home,  with  her 
troubles  and  piteous  yearnings  and  fancies  as  her  only  com- 
panions? Once  upon  a  tune  Ingram  could  have  gone 
straight  up  to  him  and  admonished  him,  and  driven  him  to 
mend  his  ways.     But  now  that  was  impossible. 

What  was  still  possible?  One  wild  project  occurred  to  him 
for  a  moment,  but  he  laughed  at  it  and  dismissed  it.  It  was 
that  he  should  go  boldly  to  Mrs.  Lorraine  herself,  ask  her 
plainly  if  she  knew  what  cruel  injury  she  was  doing  to  this 
young  wife,  and  force  her  to  turn  Lavender  adrift.  But 
what  enterprise  of  the  days  of  old  romance  could  be  com- 
pared with  this  mad  proposal?  'l\)  ride  up  to  a  castle,  blow 
a  trumpet,  and  announce  that  unless  a  certain  lady  were  re- 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 


271 


leased  forthwith,  death  and  destruction  would  begin — all  that 
was  simple  enough,  easy  and,  according  to  rule;  but  to  go 
into  a  Jady's  drawing-room  without  an  introduction,  and 
request  her  to  stop  a  certain  flirtation — that  was  a  much  more 
awful  undertaking.  But  Ingram  could  not  altogether  dismiss 
this  notion  from  his  head.  Mosenberg  went  on  playing — no 
longer  his  practising-pieces,  but  all  manner  of  airs  which  he 
knew  Ingram  liked — while  the  small,  sallow  man  with  the 
brown  beard  lay  in  his  easy-chair  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and 
gazed  attentively  at  his  toes  on  the  fender, 

"You  know  Mrs.  Kavanagh  and  her  daughter,  don't  you, 
Mosenberg  ?"  he  said,  during  an  interval  in  the  music. 

"Not  much,"  said  the  boy.  "They  were  in  England 
only  a  little  while  before  I  went  to  Leipsic." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  ihem." 

"That  is  very  easy.  Mr,  Lavender  will  introduce  you  to 
them.    Mrs,  Lavender  said  he  went  there  very  much," 

"What  would  they  do,  do  you  think,  if  I  went  up  and 
asked  to  see  them?" 

"  The  servant  would  ask  if  it  was  about  beer  or  coals  that 
you  called." 

A  man  will  do  much  for  a  wom.an  who  is  his  friend,  but  to 
be  suspected  of  being  a  brewer's  traveler,  to  have  to  push 
one's  way  into  a  strange  drawing-room,  to  have  to  confront 
the  awful  stare  of  the  inmates,  and  then  to  have  to  deliver  a 
message  which  they  will  probably  consider  as  the  very  ex- 
treme of  audacious  and  meddling  impertinence!  The  pros- 
p,  ct  was  not  pleasant,  and  yet  Ingram,  as  he  sat  and  thought 
over  it  that  evening,  finally  resolved  to  encounter  all  these 
dangers  and  wounds.  He  could  help  Sheila  in  no  other  way. 
He  was  banished  from  her  house.  Perhaps  he  might  induce 
this  American  girl  to  release  her  capiive,  and  give  Lavender 
back  to  his  own  wife.  What  were  a  few  tv/inges  of  one's 
self-respect,  or  risks  of  a  humiliating  failure,  compared  with 
the  possibility  of  befriend mg  Sheila  in  some  small  way  ? 

Next  morning  he  went  eaily  into  Whitehall,  and  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  started  off  for  Holland  Park. 
He  wore  a  tall  hat,  a  black  frock-coat  and  yellow  kid  gloves. 
He  went  in  a  hansom,  so  that  the  person  who  opened  the 
door  should  know  that  he  was  not  a  brewer's  traveler.  In 
this  wise  he  reached  ^Virs;  Kavanagh's  house,  which  Lavender 
had  frequently  pointed  out  to  nim  in  passing,  about  half-past 


272  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

one,  and  with  some  internal  tremors,  but  much  outward 
calmness,  went  up  the  broad  stone  steps. 

A  small  boy  in  buttons  opened  the  door. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Lorraine  at  home?'' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy. 

It  was  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  In  a  few  sec- 
onds he  found  himself  in  a  big  drawing-room,  and  the  youth 
had  taken  his  card  up  stairs.  Ingram  was  not  very  sure 
whether  his  success,  so  far,  was  due  to  the  hansom,  or  to  his 
tall  hat,  or  to  a  silver-headed  cane  which  his  grandfather  had 
brought  home  from  India.  However,  here  he  was  in  the 
house,  just  like  the  hero  of  one  of  those  fine  old  farces  of  our 
youth,  who  jumps  from  the  street  into  a  strange  drawing- 
room,  flirts  wiih  the  maid,  hides  behind  a  screen,  confronts 
the  master,  and  marries  his  daughter,  all  in  half  an  hour,  the 
most  exacting  unities  of  time  and  place  being  faithfully  ob- 
served. 

Presently  the  door  was  opened,  and  a  young  lady,  pale 
and  calm  and  sweet  of  face,  approached  him,  and  not  only 
bowed  to  him,  but  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  have  much  pleasure  in  making  your  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Ingram,"  she  faid,  gently  and  somewhat  slowly.  '•  Mr. 
Lavender  has  frequently  promised  to  bring  you  to  see  us,  for 
he  has  spoken  to  us  so  much  about  you  that  we  begun  to 
think  we  already  knew  you.  Will  you  come  with  me  up 
stairs,  that  I  may  intrc)duce  you  to  mamma?'' 

Ingram  had  co^me  prepared  to  state  harsh  truths  bluntly, 
and  was  ready  to  meet  any  sort  of  anger  or  opposition  with  a 
perfect  frankness  of  intention.  But  he  certainly  had  not 
come  prepared  to  find  the  smart-tongued  and  fascinating 
American  widow,  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  a  quiet, 
self  po  ;sessed  and  gracious  young  lady,  of  singularly  winning 
manners,  and  clear  and  resolutely  honest  eyes.  Had  Lavendtr 
been  quite  accurate,  or  even  conscientious  in  his  garrulous 
talk  about  Mrs.  Lorraine  ? 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  Ingram,  with  a  smile  that 
had  le.-s  of  embarrassment  about  it  than  he  could  liave  ex- 
pected, "  I  would  rather  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes  first. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  come  on  a  self-imposed  errand ;  and  that 
must  be  my  apology  for — for  thrusting  myself — " 

"  I  am  sure  no  apology  is  needed,"  said  the  girl.  "We 
have  always  been  expecting  to  see  you.     Will  you  sit  down  ?" 


A    PRlNCtSS    OF     THULE.  273 

He  put  his  hat  and  his  cane  on  the  table,  and  as  he  did  fo 
he  recorded  a  mental  resolution  not  to  be  led  away  by  the 
apparent  innocence  and  sweetness  of  this  woman.  What  a 
fool  he  had  been  to  expect  her  to  appear  in  the  guise  of 
some  forward  and  giggling  coquette,  as  if  Frank  Lavender, 
with  all  his  faults,  could  have  suffered  anything-  like  coarse- 
ness of  manners  !  But  was  this  woman  any  the  less  danger- 
ous that  she  was  refined  and  courteous,  and  had  the  speech 
and  bearing  of  a  gentlewoman  ? 

"  Mrs.  Lorraine,"'  he  said,  lowering  his  eyebrows  somewhat, 
"I  may  as  well  be  frank  with  you.  I  have  come  upon  an 
unpleasant  errand — an  affair,  indeed,  which  ought  to  be  no 
business  of  mine;  but  sometimes,  when  you  care  a  little  for 
some  one,  you  don't  mind  running  the  risk  of  being  treated  as 
anintermeddler.  You  know  that  I  know  M-s.  Lavender.  She 
is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  She  was  almost  a  child  when  I 
knev/  her  first,  and  I  still  have  a  sort  of  notion  that  she  is  a 
child,  and  that  I  should  look  after  her,  and  so — and  so — " 

She  sat  quite  still.  There  was  no  surprise,  no  alarm,  no 
anger  when  Sheila's  name  was  mentioned.  She  was  merely 
attentive,  but  now  seeing  that  he  hesitated,  she  said,  "  I  do 
not  know  what  you  have  to  say,  but  if  it  is  serious,  may  not  I 
ask  mamma  to  join  us  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  no.  I  would  rather  speak  with  you  alone, 
as  this  matter  concerns  yourself  only.  Well,  the  fact  is,  I 
have  seen  for  some  time  back  that  Mrs.  Lavender  is  very  un- 
happy. She  is  left  alone;  she  knows  no  one  in  London;  per- 
haps she  does  not  care  to  join  much  in  those  social  amuse- 
ments that  her  husband  enjoys.  I  eay  this  poor  g'rl  is  an  old 
friend  of  mine;  I  cannot  help  trying  to  do  something  to  make 
her  less  wretched;  and  so  I  have  ventured  to  come  to  you  to 
see  if  you  could  assist  me.  Mr.  Lavender  comes  very  much 
to  your  house,  and  Sheila  is  left  all  by  herself;  and  doubtless 
s!ie  begins  to  fancy  that  her  husband  is  neglectful,  perhaps 
in  lifferent  to  her,  and  may  get  to  imagine  things  that  are 
quite  wrong,  you  know,  and  tliat  could  be  explained  away  by 
a  little  kindness  on  your  part." 

Was  this,  then,  the  fashion  in  which  Jonah  had  gone  up  to 
curse  the  wickedness  of  Nineveh?  As  he  had  spoken  he  had 
been  aware  that  those  sincere,  somewhat  matter-of  fact  and 
far  from  unfriendly  eyes  that  were  fixed  on  him,  had  under- 
gone no  change  wi.a'evtr.     Here  was  no  vile  creature  who 


2  74  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

would  start  up  with  a  guilty  conscience  to  repel  the  remotest 
hint  of  an  accusation;  and  indeed,  quite  unconsciously  to 
himself,  he  had  been  led  on  to  ask  for  her  help.  Not  thai  he 
feared  her.  Not  but  that  he  could  have  said  the  harshest  things 
to  her  which  there  was  any  reason  for  saying.  But  somehow 
there  seemed  to  be  no  occasion  for  tlie  utterance  of  any 
cruel  truths. 

The  wonder  of  it  v/as,  too,  that  instead  of  being  wounded, 
indignant  and  angry,  as  he  had  expected  her  to  be,  she  be- 
trayed a  very  friendly  interest  in  Sheila,  as  though  she  herself 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter. 

"  You  have  undertaken  a  very  difficult  task,  Mr.  Ingram," 
she  said  with  a  smile.  "  I  don't  think  there  are  many  mar- 
ried ladies  in  London  who  have  a  friend  who  would  do  as 
much  for  them.  And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  both  my  mamma 
and  myself  have  come  to  the  same  conclusion  as  yourself 
about  Mr,  Lavender.  Is  is  really  too  bad,  the  way  in  which 
he  allows  that  pretty  young  thing  to  remain  at  home,  for  I 
suppose  she  would  go  more  into  society  if  he  were  to  coax 
her  and  persuade  her.  We  have  done  what  we  could  in 
sending  her  invitations,  in  calling  on  her,  and  in  begging 
Mr.  Lavender  to  bring  her  with  him.  But  he  has  always 
somiC  excuse  for  her,  so  that  we  never  see  her.  And  yet  I 
am  sure  he  does  not  mean  to  give  her  pain;  for  he  is  very 
proud  of  her,  and  madly  extravagant  wherever  she  is  con- 
cerned; and  srmetimes  he  takes  sudden  fits  of  trying  to 
please  her  and  be  kind  to  her  that  are  quite  odd  in  their 
way.     Can  you  tell  me  what  we  should  do  ?" 

Ingram  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  said  gravely  and 
slowly,  "  Before  we  talk  any  more  about  that  I  must  clear  my 
conscience.  I  perceive  that  I  have  done  you  a  wrong.  I 
came  here  prepared  to  accuse  you  of  drawing  away  Mr.  Lav- 
ender from  his  wife,  of  seeking  amusement  and  perhaps  some 
social  diitinction,  by  keeping  him  continually  dangling  after 
you;  and  I  meant  to  reproach  you,  or  even  threaten  you, 
until  you  promised  never  to  see  him  again." 

A  quick  flush,  partly  of  shame,  partly  of  annoyance,  sprang 
to  Mrs.  Lorraine's  fair  and  pale  face;  but  she  answered  calm- 
ly, *'  It  is  perhaps  as  well  that  you  did  not  tell  me  this  a  few 
minutes  ago.  May  I  ask  what  has  led  you  to  change  your 
opinion  of  me,  if  it  has  changed?" 

"  Of  course  it  has  changed,"  he  said,  promptly  and  em- 


A    PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  275 

phatically.  "  I  can  see  that  I  did  you  a  great  injury,  and  I 
apologize  for  it,  and  beg  your  forgiveness.  But  when  you 
ask  me  what  has  led  me  to  change  my  opinion,  what  am  1  to 
say?  Your  manner,  perhaps,  more  than  what  you  have  said 
has  convinced  me  that  I  was  wrong." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  again  mistaken,"  she  said  coldly;  "you 
get  rapidly  to  conclusions.'' 

"  The  reproof  is  just,"  he  said.  "You  are  quite  right.  I 
have  made  a  blunder;  there  is  no  mistake  about  it." 

"  But  do  you  think  it  was  fair,"  she  said  with  some  spirit — 
"  do  you  think  it  was  fair  to  believe  all  this  harm  about  a 
woman  you  had  never  seen  ?  Now,  listen.  A  hundred  times 
I  have  begged  Mr.  Lavender  to  be  more  attentive  to  his  wife 
— not  in  these  words,  of  course,  but  as  directly  as  I  could. 
Mamma  has  given  parties,  made  arrangements  for  visits, 
drives  and  all  sorts  of  things,  to  tempt  Mrs.  Lavender  to 
come  to  us,  and  all  in  vain.  Of  course  you  can't  thrust  your- 
self on  any  one  like  that.  Though  mamma  and  myself  like 
Mrs.  Lavender  very  well,  it  is  asking  too  much  that  we 
should  encounter  the  humiliation  of  mtermeddling." 

Here  she  stopped  suddenly,  with  the  least  show  of  embar- 
rassment. Then  she  said,  frankly,  "  You  are  an  old  friend  of 
hers.  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  have  risked  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  that  girl.  There  are  very  few  gentlemen  whom  one 
meets  who  would  do  as  much." 

Ingram  could  say  nothing,  and  was  a  little  impatient  with 
himself.  Was  he  to  be  first  reproved,  and  then  treated  with 
an  indulgent  kindness  by  a  mere  girl? 

"  Mamma,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  as  an  elderly  lady  entered 
the  room,  "  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Ingram,  whom  you 
must  already  know.  He  proposes  we  should  join  in  some 
conspiracy  to  inveigle  Mrs.  Lavender  into  society,  and  make 
the  poor  little  thing  amuse  herself." 

"Little!"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  with  a  smile;  "she  is  a 
good  deal  taller  than  you  are,  my  dear.  But  I  am  afraid, 
Mr.  Ingram,  you  have  undertaken  a  hopeless  task.  Will  you 
stay  to  luncheon  and  talk  it  over  with  us?" 

"I  hope  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine;  and  naturally 
enough  he  consented. 

Luncheon  was  just  ready.  As  they  were  going  into  the 
room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall,  the  younger  lady  said 
to  Ingram  in  a  quiet  undertone,  but  with  much  indifference 


276  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

of  manner,  "  You  know,  if  )'ou  think  I  ought  to  give  up  Mr. 
Lavender's  acquaintance  altogether,  I  will  do  so  at  once. 
But  perhaps  that  will  not  be  necessary." 

So  this  was  the  house  in  which  Sheila's  husband  spent  so 
much  of  his  time,  and  these  were  the  two  ladies  of  whom  so 
much  had  been  said  and  surmised?  There  were  three  of 
Lavender's  pictures  en  the  walls  of  the  dining-room,  and  as 
Ingram  inadvertently  glanced  at  them,  Mrs.  Lorraine  said  to 
him,  "Don't  you  think  it  is  a  pity  Mr.  Lavender  should 
continue  drawing  those  imaginative  sketches  of  heads?  I  do 
not  think,  myself,  that  he  does  himself  justice  in  that  way. 
Some  bits  of  landscape,  now,  that  I  have  seen,  seemed  to  me 
to  have  quite  a  definite  character  about  them,  and  promised 
far  more  than  anything  else  of  his  I  have  seen." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  think,"  said  Ingram,  partly 
amused  and  partly  annoyed  to  find  that  this  girl,  with  her 
clear  gray  eyes,  her  soft  and  musical  voice,  and  her  singular 
delicacy  of  manner,  had  an  evil  trick  of  saying  the  very 
tilings  he  would  himself  have  said,  and  leaving  him  with 
nothing  but  a  helpless  "Yes." 

"  I  think  he  ought  to  have  given  up  his  club  when  he  mar- 
ried. Most  English  gentlemen  do  that  when  they  marry,  do 
they  not?"  said  Mrs,  Kavanagh. 

"  Some,"  said  Ingram.  "  But  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  is 
talked  about  the  influence  of  clubs  in  that  way.  It  is  really 
absurd  to  suppose  that  the  size  or  the  shape  of  a  building 
can  alter  a  man's  moral  character." 

"It  does,  though,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine  confidently.  "I 
can  tell  directly  if  a  gentleman  has  been  accustomed  to  spend 
his  time  in  clubs.  When  he  is  surprised  or  angry  or  im- 
patient, you  can  perceive  blanks  in  his  conversation  which 
in  a  club,  I  suppose,  would  be  filled  up.  Don't  you  know 
poor  old  Colonel  Hannen's  way  of  talking,  mamma?  This 
eld  gentleman,  Mr.  Ingram,  is  very  fond  of  speaking  to  you 
about  political  liberty  and  the  rights  of  conscience;  and  he 
generally  becomes  so  confused  that  he  gets  vexed  with  him- 
self, and  makes  odd  pauses,  as  if  he  were  invariably  address- 
ing himself  in  very  rude  language  indeed.  Sometimes  yuu 
would  think  he  was  like  a  railway  engine,  going  blindly  and 
helplessly  on  through  a  thick  and  choking  mint;  and  you  can 
see  that  if  there  were  no  ladies  present  he  would  let  off  a  few 
crackers — fog-signals,  as  it  were — just  to  bring  himself  up  a 


A  rRixcr.PS  CF  thule.  277 

bit,  and  let  people  know  where  he  was.  Then  he  Avill  go  on 
r.gain,  talking  away  until  you  fancy  yourself  in  a  tunnel, 
with  a  throbbing  noise  in  your  ears  and  all  the  daylight  shut 
out,  and  you  perhaps  getting  to  wish  that  on  the  whole  you 
were  dead." 

'Cecilia!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  mamma,"  said  the  younger  lady, 
with  a  quiet  smile;  "you  look  so suiprised  that  Mr.  Ingram 
will  give  me  credit  for  not  often  erring  in  that  way.  You 
look  as  though  a  hare  had  turned  and  attacked  you." 

"That  would  give  most  people  a  fright,"  said  Ingram, 
with  a  laugh.  He  was  rapidly  forgetting  the  object  of  his 
mission.  The  almost  childish  softness  of  voice  of  this  girl, 
and  the  perfect  composure  with  which  she  uttered  litlle 
sayings  that  showed  considerable  sharpness  of  observation 
and  a  keen  enjoyment  of  the  grotesque,  had  an  odd  sort  of 
fascination  for  him.  He  totally  forgot  that  Lavender  had 
betn  fascinated  by  it,  too.  If  he  had  been  reminded  of  the 
fact  at  this  moment,  he  would  have  said  that  the  boy  had, 
as  usual,  got  sentimental  about  a  pretty  pair  of  big  gray  eyes 
and  afine  profile,  while  he,  Ingram,  was  possessed  by  nothirg 
but  a  purely  intellectual  admiration  of  certain  fine  qualities 
of  wit,  sincerity  of  speech  and  womanly  shrewdness. 

Luncheon,  indeed,  was  over  before  any  mention  was  made 
of  the  Lavenderj^;  and  when  they  returned  to  tiiat  subject  it 
appeared  to  In,: ram  that  their  relations  had  in  the  meantime 
got  to  be  very  frier, dly,  and  that  they  were  really  discussing 
this  matter  as  if  they  formed  a  little  family  conclave. 

"  I  have  told  ]\lr.  Ingram,  mamma,"  Mrs.  Lorraine  said, 
"that  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  will  do  whatever  he  thinks 
I  ought  to  do.  Mr.  Lavender  has  been  a  friend  of  ours  for 
fiome  time,  and  of  course  he  cannot  be  treated  with -rudeness 
or  incivility;  but  if  we  are  wcunding  the  feelings  of  any  one 
by  asking  him  to  come  here — and  he  certainly  visited  us 
pretty  often — why,  it  would  be  easy  to  lessen  the  number  c  f 
his  calls.  Is  that  what  we  should  do,  Mr.  Ingram?  You 
would  not  have  us  quarrel  v.ath  him  ?"' 

"Especially,"  Faid  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  with  a  smile,  "that 
there  is  no  cena'niy  he  will  spend  more  of  his  time  with  hi.-, 
wife  merely  because  he  spends  kss  of  it  here.  And  yet  I 
fancy  he  is  a  very  good-natured  man." 

"  lie  is  very  goou-nauued,"  £;aid  Ingram,  with  decision. 


278  A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"I  have  known  him  for  years,  and  I  know  that  he  is  exceed- 
ingly unselfish,  and  that  he  would  do  a  ridiculously  generous 
thing  to  serve  a  friend,  and  that  a  better-intentioned  fellow- 
does  not  breathe  in  the  M^orld.  But  he  is  at  times,  I  admit, 
very  thoughtless  and  inconsiderate." 

"That  sort  of  good-nature,"  ^aid  Mrs.  Lorraine,  in  her 
gentlest  voice,  "is  very  good  in  its  way,  but  rather  uncer- 
tain. So  long  as  it  shines  in  one  direction,  it  is  all  right  and 
quite  trustworthy,  for  you  want  a  hard  brush  to  brush  sun- 
light off  a  wall.     But  when  the  sunlight  shifts  you  know — " 

"  The  wall  is  left  in  the  cold.  Well,"  said  Ingram,  "I  am 
afraid  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  dictate  to  you  what  you 
ought  to  do.  I  do  not  wish  to  draw  you  into  any  interfer- 
ence between  husband  and  wife,  or  even  to  let  Mr.  Lavender 
know  that  you  think  he  is  not  treating  Shei — Mrs,  Lavender — 
properly.  But  if  you  were  to  hint  to  him  that  he  ought  to 
pay  some  attention  to  her — that  he  should  not  be  going 
everywhere  as  if  he  v/ere  a  young  bachelor  in  chambers;  if 
you  would  discourage  his  coming  to  see  you  without  bringing 
her  also,  and  so  forth — surely  he  would  see  what  you  mean. 
Perhaps  I  ask  too  much  of  you,  but  I  had  intended  to  ask 
more.  The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  I  had  done  your  daughter 
the  injustice  of  supposing — '' 

"  I  thought  we  had  agreed  to  say  no  more  about  that,'' 
said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  quickly,  and  Ingram  was  silent. 

Half  an  hour  thereafter  he  was  walking  back  though  Holland 
Park,  through  the  warm  light  of  an  autumn  afternoon.  The 
place  seemed  much  changed  since  he  had  seen  it  a  couple 
of  hours  before.  The  double  curve  of  big  houses  had  a 
more  friendly  and  hospitable  look;  the  very  air  seemed  to  be 
more  genial  and  comfortable  since  he  had  driven  up  here  in 
the  hansom. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Ingram  was  at  this  moment  a  little  more  per- 
turbed, pleased  and  bewildered  than  he  would  have  liked  to 
confess.  He  had  discovered  a  great  deal  in  these  two  hours, 
been  much  surprised  and  fascinated,  and  had  come  away 
fairly  stupefied  with  the  result  of  his  mission.  He  had  in- 
deed been  successful;  Lavender  would  now  find  a  different 
welcome  awaiting  him  in  the  house  in  which  he  had  been 
spending  nearly  all  his  time,  to  the  neglect  of  his  wife.  But 
tlie  fact  is,  that  as  Edward  Ingram  went  rapidly  over  in  his 
cwn  mind  everything  that  had  occurred  since  his  entrance 


A     TRINCESS    OF    THULE.  279 

into  that  house,  as  he  anxiously  recalled  the  remarks  made 
to  him,  the  tone  and  looks  accompanying  them,  and  his  own 
repliei,  it  was  not  of  Lavender's  affairs  alone  that  he  thought. 
He  confessed  to  himself  frankly  that  he  had  never  )^et  met 
any  woman  who  had  so  surprised  him  into  admiration  en 
their  first  meeting. 

Yet  what  had  she  said  ?  Nothing  very  particular.  Was  it 
the  bright  intelligence  of  the  gray  eyes,  that  seemed  to  see 
everything  he  meant  with  an  instant  quickness,  and  that 
seemed  to  agree  with  him  even  before  he  spoke?  Here- 
fleeted,  now  that  he  was  in  the  open  air,  that  he  must  have 
persecuted  these  two  women  dreadfully.  In  getting  away 
from  Lavender's  affairs  they  had  touched  on  pictures,  books, 
and  what  not — on  the  young  poet  who  was  playing  Alfred  de 
Musset  in  England;  on  the  great  philosopher  who  had  gone 
into  the  House  to  confuse  and  bewilder  the  country  gentle- 
men there;  on  all  sorts  of  topics,  indeed,  except  those  which, 
as  Ingram  had  anticipated,  such  a  creature  as  Mrs.  Lorraine 
would  naturally  have  found  interesting.  And  he  had  to 
confess  to  himself  that  he  had  lectured  his  two  helpless 
victims  most  unmercifully.  He  was  quite  conscious  that  he 
sometimes  laid  down  the  law  in  an  authoritative  and  even 
sententious  manner.  On  first  going  into  the  house  certain 
things  said  by  Mrs.  Lorraine  had  almost  surprised  him  into  a 
mood  of  mere  acquiescence;  but  after  luncheon  he  had 
assumed  his  ordinary  manner  of  tutor  in  general  to  the  uni- 
verse, and  had  informed  these  two  women,  in  a  distinct 
fashion,  what  their  opinions  ought  to  be  on  half  the  social 
conundrums  of  the  day. 

He  now  reflected,  with  much  compunction,  that  this  v/as 
highly  improper.  He  ought  to  have  asked  about  flower- 
shows,  and  inquired  whether  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  look- 
ing well  of  late.  Some  reference  to  the  late  Parisian  comedy 
might  have  introduced  a  disquisition  on  the  new  grays  and 
greens  of  the  French  milliners,  with  a  passing  mention  made 
of  the  price  paid  for  a  pair  of  ponies  by  a  certain  marquise 
unattached.  He  had  not  spoken  of  one  of  these  things; 
perhaps  he  could  not  if  he  had  tried.  He  remembered,  with 
an  awful  consciousness  of  guilt,  that  he  had  actually  discoursed 
of  woman  suffrage,  of  the  public  conscience  of  New  York,  of 
the  extirpation  of  the  Indians,  and  a  dozen  difi"crent  things 
ujt  only  taking  no  heed  of  any  opinions  that  his  audience  of 


28o  A   PRINCESS    OF   THULE. 

two  might  hold,  but  insisting  on  their  accepting  his  opinions 
as  the  expression  of  absolute  and  incontrovertible  truth. 

He  became  more  and  more  dissatisfied  with  himself.  If 
he  could  only  go  back  now,  he  would  be  much  more  wary, 
more  submissive  and  complaisant,  more  anxious  to  please. 
What  right  had  he  to  abuse  the  courtesy  and  hospitality  of 
ihose  two  strangers,  and  lecture  them  on  the  Constitution  of 
iheir  own  country?  He  was  annoyed  beyond  expression  that 
they  had  listened  to  him  with  so  much  patience. 

And  yet  he  could  not  have  seriously  offended  th^m  for 
they  had  earnestly  besought  him  to  dine  with  them  on  the 
fjllowing  Tuesday  evening  to  meet  an  American  judge; 
and  when  he  had  consented,  Mrs  Lorraine  had  written  down 
on  a  card  the  date  and  hour,  lest  he  should  forget.  He  had 
the  card  in  his  pocket;  surely  he  could  not  have  offended 
them?  If  he  had  pursued  this  series  of  questions,  he  might 
have  gone  on  to  ask  himself  why  he  should  be  so  anxious 
not  to  have  offended  these  two  new  friends.  He  was  not 
ordinarily  very  sensitive  to  the  opinions  that  might  be 
formed  of  him — more  especially  by  persons  living  out  of 
his  own  sphere,  with  whom  he  v.as  not  likely  to  associate. 
He  did  not,  indeed,  as  a  general  rule,  suffer  himself  to  be 
perturbed  about  anything;  and  yet,  as  he  went  along  the 
busy  thoroughfare  at  this  moaient,  he  was  conscious  that 
rarely  in  his  life  had  he  been  so  ill  at  ease. 

Something  now  occurred  that  startled  him  out  of  his  re- 
verie. Communing  with  himself,  he  W3s  staring  blankly 
ahead,  taking  little  note  of  the  people  whom  he  saw.  But 
somehow,  in  a  vague  and  dream-like  way,  he  seemed  to  be- 
coaie  aware  that  there  was  some  one  in  front  of  him — a  long 
way  ahead  as  yet — whom  he  knew.  He  was  still  thinking  of 
Mrs.  Lorraine,  and  unconsciously  postponing  the  examination 
of  this  approaching  figure,  or  rather  pair  of  figures,  when, 
with  a  sudden  start,  he  found  Sheila's  sad  and  earnest  eyes 
fixed  upon  him.  He  woke  up  as  from  a  dream.  He  saw 
that  young  Mosenberg  was  with  her,  and  naturaPy  the  boy 
would  have  approached  Ingram,  and  stopped  ancl  spoken. 
But  Ingram  paid  no  attention  to  him.  He  was,  with  a  quick 
pang  at  his  heart,  regarding  Sheila,  with  the  knowledge  that 
on  her  rested  the  cruel  decision  as  to  whether  she  should 
c  )me  forvvard  or  not.  He  was  n'ot  aware  that  her  husband 
had  forbidden  her  to  have  any  communication  with  him; 


A    PRINCESS    OF    TIIULE,  2S1 

jet  he  had  guessed  as  much,  partly  from  his  knowledge  of 
Lavender's  impatient  disposition,  and  partly  from  the  glance 
he  caught  of  her  eyes  when  he  woke  up  from  his  trance. 

Young  Mosenberg  turned  with  surprise  to  his  companion. 
She  was  passing  on;  he  did  not  even  see  that  she  had  bowed 
to  Ingram,  with  a  face  flushed  with  shame  and  pain,  and 
with  eyes  cast  down.  Ingram,  too,  was  passing  on,  without 
even  shaking  hands  with  her  or  uttering  a  word.  Mosen- 
berg w^as  too  bewildered  to  attempt  any  protest;  he  merely 
followed  Sheila,  with  a  conviction  that  something  desperate 
had  occurred,  and  that  he  would  best  consult  her  feelings  by 
making  no  reference  to  it. 

But  that  one  look  that  the  girl  had  directed  to  her  old 
friend  before  she  bowed  and  passed  on  had  filled  him  with 
despair.  It  was  somehow  like  the  piteous  look  of  a  wounded 
animal,  incapable  of  expressing  iis  pain.  All  thoughts  and 
fancies  of  hs  own  little  vexations  or  embarrassments  were 
instantly  banished  from  him:  he  could  only  see  before  him 
those  sad  and  piteous  «yes,  full  of  kindness  to  him,  he 
thought,  and  of  grief  that  she  should  be  debarred  from 
speaking  to  him,  and  of  resignation  to  her  own  lot. 

Gwdyr  House  did  not  get  much  work  out  of  him  that  day. 
He  sat  in  a  small  room  in  a  back  part  of  the  building,  look- 
ing out  on  a  lonely  little  square,  silent  and  ruddy  with  the 
reflected  light  of  the  sunset. 

"A  hundred  Mrs.  Kavanaghs,"  he  was  thinking  to  himself 
bitterly  enough,  "will  not  save  my  poor  Sheila.  She  will  die 
of  a  broken  heart.  I  can  see  it  in  her  face.  And  it  is  I  who 
have  done  it — from  first  to  last  it  is  I  who  have  done  it;  and 
now  I  can  do  nothing  to  help  her." 

That  became  the  burden  and  refrain  of  all  his  reflections. 
It  was  he  who  had  done  this  frightful  thing.  It  was  he  who 
had  taken  away  the  young  Highland  girl,  his  good  Sheila, 
from  her  home,  and  ruined  her  life  and  broken  her  heart. 
And  he  could  do  nothing  to  help  her. 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
sheila's    stratagem. 
"We  met  Mr.  Ingram  to-day,"  said   young  Mosenberg, 
ingeniously. 

He  was  dining  with  Lavender,  not  at  home,  but  at  a  club 


282  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

in  St.  James'  street;  and  either  his  curiosity  v/as  too  great, or 
he  had  forgotten  altogether  Ingram's  warnings  to  him  that  he 
should  hold  his  tongue. 

"  Oh,  did  you?"  said  Lavender,  showing  no  great  interest. 
"  Waiter,  some  French  mustard.  What  did  Ingram  say  to 
you  ?" 

The  question  was  asked  with  much  apparent  indifference, 
and  the  boy  stared.  "  Well,''  he  said  at  length,  '^  I  suppose 
there  is  some  misunderstanding  between  Mrs.  Lavender  and 
Mr.  Ingram,  for  they  both  saw  each  other,  and  they  both 
passed  on  without  speaking,  I  was  very  sorry — yes.  I  thought 
they  were  friends — I  thought  Mr.  Ingram  knew  Mrs.  Laven- 
der even  before  you  didj  but  they  did  not  speak  to  each 
other,  not  one  word." 

Lavender  was  in  one  sense  pleased  to  hear  this.  He  liked 
to  hear  that  his  wife  was  obedient  to  him.  But,  he  said  to 
himself  with  a  sharp  twinge  of  conscience,  she  was  carrying 
her  obedience  too  far.  He  had  never  meant  that  she  should 
not  even  speak  to  her  old  friend.*  He  would  talk  to  her 
about  it  as  soon  as  he  got  home,  and  in  as  kindly  a  way  as 
was  possible. 

Mosenberg  did  not  play  billiards,  but  they  remained  late 
in  the  billiard-room,  Lavender  playing  pool  and  getting  out 
of  it  rather  successfully.  He  could  not  speak  to  Sheila  that 
night,  but  next  morning,  before  going  out,  he  did. 

'•'  Sheila,"  he  said,  '' Mosenberg  told  me  last  night  that  you 
met  Mr.  Ingram  and  did  not  speak  to  him.  Now,  I  didn't 
mean  anything  like  that.  You  must  not  think  me  unreason- 
able. All  I  want  is  that  he  shall  not  interfere  with  our  affairs 
and  try  to  raise  some  unpleasantness  between  }ou  and  me, 
such  as  might  arise  from  the  interference  of  even  the  kind- 
est of  friends.  When  you  meet  him  outside  or  at  any  one's 
house,  I  hope  you  will  treat  him  just  as  usual." 

Sheila  replied  calmly,  "If  I  am  not  allowed  to  receive 
Mr.  Ingram  here,  I  cannot  treat  him  as  a  friend  else- 
where. I  would  rather  not  have  friends  whom  I  can  only 
speak  to  in  the  streets.'' 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lavender,  wincing  under  the  rebuke, 
but  fancying  that  she  would  soon  repent  her  of  this  re- 
solve. In  the  meantime,  if  she  would  have  it  so,  she  would 
have  it  so 

So  that  was  an  end  of    this  question   of   Mr.  Ingram's  in- 


A     PRINCESS     or    'IHULE.  283 

terference  for  the  present.  But  very  soon — in  a  couple  of 
days,  indeed — Lavender  perceived  the  change  that  had  been 
wrought  in  the  house  in  Holland  Park  to  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  resort. 

"  Cecelia,"  Mrs.  Kavanagh  had  said  on  Ingram's  leaving, 
"  you  must  not  be  rude  to  Mr.  Lavender."  She  knew  the 
perfect  independepce  of  that  gentle  young  lady,  and  v/as 
rather  afraid  it  might  carry  her  too  far. 

'*  Of  course  I  shall  not  be,  mamma,"  Mrs.  Lorraine  had 
said.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  courageous  act  as  that 
man  coming  up  to  two  strangers  and  challenging  them,  all 
on  account  of  a  girl  married  to  some  one  else?  You  know 
that  v/as  the  object  of  his  visit.  He  thought  I  was  flirting 
wiih  ]\Ir.  Lavender  and  keeping  him  from  his  wife.  I  wonder 
how  many  men  there  are  in  London  who  would  have  walked 
twenty  yards  to  help  in  such  a  matter?" 

"  ]\Iy  dear,  he  may  have  been  in  love  with  that  pretty 
young  lady  before  she  was  married." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  clear-eyed  daughter,  quietly  but  quite 
confidently.  "  He  would  not  be  so  ready  to  show  his  interest 
in  her  if  that  were  so.  Either  he  would  be  modest,  and 
ashamed  of  his  rejection,  or  vain,  and  attempt  to  make  a 
mystery  about  it." 

*'  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  the  mother.  She  seldom 
found  her  daughter  wrong  on  such  points. 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  right,  mamma.  He  talks  about  her  as 
fondly  and  frequently  and  openly  as  a  man  might  talk  about 
his  own  daughter.  Besides,  you  can  see  that  he  is  talking 
honestly.  The  man  couldn't  deceive  a  child  if  he  were  to 
try.     You  see  everything  in  his  f  ice." 

"You  seem  to  have  been  much  interested  in  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Kavanagh,  with  no  appearance  of  sarca-sm. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  I  meet  such  men  often,  and  that  is 
the  truth.  Do  you?"  This  waj  carrying  the  war  into  the 
enemy's  country. 

"  I  like  him  very  well,"  raid  Mrs.  Kavanagh.  "I  think  he 
is  honest.  I  do  not  think  he  dresses  very  carefully;  and  he  is 
perhaps  too  intent  on  convincing  you  that  his  opinions  are 
right." 

"  Well,  for  my  part,"  said  her  daughter,  with  just  the  least 
tinge  of  warmth  in  her  manner,  '-I  confess  1  like  a  man 
who  has  opinions,  and  is  not  a''raid  to  say  so.     I   don't   find 


284  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

many  who  have.  And  for  his  dressing,  one  gets  rather  tired 
of  men  who  come  to  you  every  evening  to  impress  you  with 
the  excellence  of  their  tailor.  As  if  women  were  to  be 
captured  by  millinery  !  Don't  we  know  the  value  of  linen 
and  v>^oolen  fabrics?" 

**  My  dear  child,  yon  are  throwing  away  your  vexation  on 
some  one  whom  I  don't  know.     It  isn't  Mr.  Lavender?" 

"Oh,  dear,  no!  He  is  not  so  silly  as  that;  he  dresses 
well,  but  there  is  perfect  freedi  ra  about  his  dress.  He  is  too 
much  of  an  artist  to  sacrifice  himself  to  his  clothes." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  a  good  word  for  him  at  last.  I  think 
you  have  been  rather  hard  ou  him  since  Mr.  Ingram  called; 
and  that  is  the  reason  I  asked  you  to  be  careful.'' 

She  was  quite  careful,  but  as  explicit  as  good  manners 
would  allow.  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  most  particular  in  asking 
about  Mrs.  Lavender,  and  in  expressing  her  regret  that  they 
so  seldom  saw  her. 

"She  lias  been  brought  up  in  the  country,  you  know," 
said  Lavender  with  a  smile  ;  and  there  the  daughters  of  a 
house  are  taught  a  number  of  domestic  duties  that  they 
would  consider  it  a  sin  to  neglect.  She  would  be  unhappy- 
if  you  caused  her  to  neglect  them  ;  she  would  take  her 
pleasure  with  a  bad  conscience." 

"  But  she  cannot  be  occupied  with  them  all  day." 
"My  dear  Mrs.  Lorraine,  how  ofien  have  we  discussed  the 
question!  And  you  know  you  have  me  at  a  disadvantage, 
for  how  can  I  desciibe  to  you  what  those  mysterious  duties 
are?  I  only  know  that  she  is  pretty  nearly  always  busy  with 
something  or  other  ;  and  in  the  evening,  of  course,  she  is 
generally  too  tired  to  think  of  going  out  anywhere." 

"Oh,  but  you  must  try  to  get  her  out.     Next  Tuesday, 

now,  Judge is  going  to  dine  wiihus,  and  you  know  how 

amusing  he  is.     If  you  have  no  other  engagement,  couldn't 
you  bring  Mrs.  Lavender  to  dine  with  us  on  that  evening  ?" 

Now,  on  former  occasions  something  of  the  same  sort  of 
invitation  had  frequently  been  given,  and  it  was  generally 
answered  by  Lavender  giving  an  excuse  for  his  wife,  and 
])iomising  to  come  himself.  What  was  his  astonishment  to 
find  Mrs.  Lorraine  plainly  and  most  courteously  intimating 
that  the  invitation  was  addressed  distinctly  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lavender  as  a  couple  !  When  he  regretted  that  Mrs.  Laven- 
der could  not  come,  sha  said  quietly,  "Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  ! 


A    PRINCESS    OF    TII'JLE,  2    5 

You  would  have  met  an  old  friend  of  yours  here,  as  well  as 
the  judge — Mr.  Ingram." 

Lavender  made  no  further  sign  of  surprise  or  curiosity 
than  to  life  his  eyebrows  and  say,  "  Indeed  !"' 

But  when  he  left  the  house  certain  dark  suspicions  were 
troubling  his  mind.  Nothing  had  been  said  as  to  the  man- 
ner in  which  .''Ingram  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mrs. 
Kavana^h  and  her  daughter,  but  there  was  that  in  Mrs.  Lrr- 
raine's  manner  which  convinced  Lavender  that  something 
had  happened.  Had  Ingram  carried  his  interference  to  the 
extent  of  complaining  to  them  ?  Had  he  overcome  a  lepug- 
nance  which  he  had  repeatedly  admitted,  and  thrust  himself 
upon  these  two  people  for  this  very  purpose  of  making  him, 
Lavender,  odious  and  contemptible  ?  Lavender's  cheeks 
burned  as  he  thought  of  this  possibility.  Mrs.  Lorraine  had 
been  most  courteous  to  him,  but  the  1  )nger  he  dwelt  on  these 
vague  surmises  the  deeper  grew  his  consciousness  that  he  had 
been  turned  out  of  the  place,  morally  if  not  physically. 
What  was  that  excess  of  courtesy  but  a  cloak?  If  she  had 
meant  less,  she  would  have  been  more  careless;  and  all 
through  the  interview  he  had  remarked  that,  inj^tead  of  the 
free  warfare  of  talk  that  generally  went  on  between  them, 
Mrs,  Lorraine  was  most  formally  polite  and  apparently  watch- 
ful of  her  words. 

He  went  home  in  a  passion,  which  was  all  the  more  con- 
suming that  it  could  not  be  vented  on  any  one.  As  Sheila 
had  not  spoken  to  Ingram — as  she  had  even  nerved  herself 
to  wound  him  by  passing  him  without  notice  in  the  street — 
she  could  not  be  held  responsible;  and  yet  he  wished  that  he 
could  have  upbraided  some  one  for  this  mischief  that  had 
been  done.  Should  he  go  straight  down  to  Ingram's  lodgings 
and  have  it  out  with  him?  At  fir^-t  he  was  strongly  inclined 
to  do  so,  but  wiser  counsels  prevailed.  Ingram  had  a  keen 
and  ready  tongue,  and  a  way  of  saying  things  that  made 
them  rankle  afterward  in  the  memory.  Besides,  he  would  go 
into  court  with  a  defective  case.  He  could  say  nothing 
unless  Ingram  admitted  that  he  had  tried  to  poison  the  mind 
of  Mrs.  Lorraine  against  him;  and,  of  course,  if  there  was  a 
quarrel,  who  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  make  such  an  ad- 
mission? Ingram  would  laugh  at  him,  would  refuse  to 
admit  or  deny,  would  increase  his  anger  without  affording; 
him  an  opportunity  of  revenging  himself. 


286  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE, 

Sheila  could  see  that  her  husband  was  troubled,  but  could 
not  divine  the  cause,  and  had  long  ago  given  up  any  habit 
of  inquiry.  He  ate  his  dinner  almost  in  silence,  and  then 
said  he  had  to  make  a  call  on  a  friend,  and  that  he  would 
perhaps  drop  in  to  the  club  on  his  way  home,  so  that  she  was 
not  to  sit  up  for  him,  She  was  not  surprised  or  hurt  at  the 
announcement.  She  was  accustomed  to  spend  her  evenings 
alone.  She  fetched  down  his  cigar-case,  put  it  in  his  top- 
cost  pocket)  and  brought  him  the  coat.  Then  he  kissed  her 
and  went  out. 

But  this  evening,  at  least,  she  had  abundant  occupation, 
and  that  of  a  sufficiently  pleasant  kind.  For  some  little  time 
she  had  been  harboring  in  her  mind  a  dark  and  mysterious 
plot,  and  she  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  think  it  out  and 
arrange  its  details.  Mairi  was  coming  to  London,  and  she 
had  carefully  concealed  the  fact  from  her  husband.  A  little 
surprise  of  a  dramatic  sort  was  to  be  prepared  for  him. — 
with  what  result  who  could  tell?  All  of  a  sudden  Lavender 
was  to  be  precipitated  into  the  island  of  Lewis  as  nearly  as 
that  c  :)uld  be  imitated  in  a  house  at  Notting  Hill. 

This  was  Sheila's  scheme,  and  on  these  lonely  evenings 
she  cculd  sit  by  herself  with  much  satisfaction  and  ponder 
over  the  little  points  of  it  and  its  possible  success.  Mairi 
was  coming  to  London  under  the  escort  of  a  worthy  Glasgow 
fi^'f^m  .nger  whom  Mr.  Mackenzie  knew.  She  would  arrive 
after  Lavender  had  left  for  his  studio.  Then  she  and  Sheila 
would  set  to  work  to  transform  the  smoking-room,  that  was 
sometimes  called  a  library,  into  something  resembling  the 
quaint  little  drawing-room  in  Sheila's  home.  Mairi  was  bring- 
ing up  a  quantity  of  heather  gathered  fresh  from  the  rocks 
beside  the  White  Water;  she  was  bringing  up  some  peacocks' 
feathers,  tco,  for  the  mantle-piece,  and  two  or  three  big 
shells;  and.  best  of  all,  she  was  to  put  in  her  trunk  a  real  and 
veritable  lump  of  peat,  well  dried  and  easy  to  light.  Then 
you  must  know  that  Sheila  had  already  sketched  out  the 
meal  that  was  to  be  placed  on  the  table  so  soon  as  the  room 
bad  been  done  up  in  Highland  fashion  and  this  peat  lit  so  as 
to  send  its  fragrant  smoke  abroad.  A  large  salmon  was  to 
make  its  appearance  first  of  all.  There  would  be  bottles  of 
beer  on  the  table;  also  one  of  those  odd  bottles  of  Norwe- 
gian make  filled  with  v/hisky.  And  when  Lavender  went 
v.'ith  wonder  into  the  small  room,  when  he  smelt  the  fragrant 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  287 

peat  smoke — and  every  one  knows  how  powerful  the  sense  of 
smell  is  in  recalling  by  gone  associations — when  he  saw  the 
smoking  salmon  and  the  bottled  beer  and  the  whisky,  and 
whan  he  suddenly  found  Mairi  coming  into  the  room  and 
saying  to  him  in  her  sweet  Highland  fashion,  "And  are  you 
ferry  well,  sir?'' — would  not  his  heart  warm  to  the  old  ways 
and  kindly  homeliness  of  the  house  in  Borva,  and  would  not 
some  glimpse  of  the  happy  and  half-forgotten  time  that  was 
now  so  sadly  and  strangely  remote,  cause  him  to  break  down 
that  barrier  between  himself  and  Sheila  that  this  artificial  life 
in  the  South  had  placed  there? 

So  the  child  dreamed,  and  was  happy  in  dreaming  of  it. 
Sometimes  she  grew  afraid  of  her  project:  she  had  not  had 
much  experience  in  deception,  and  the  mere  concealment  of 
Mairi's  coming  was  a  hard  thing  to  bear.  But  surely  her 
husband  would  take  this  trick  in  good  part.  It  was  only, 
after  all,  a  joke.  To  put  a  little  barbaric  splendor  of  decora- 
tion into  the  little  smoking-room,  to  have  a  scent  of  peat-smoke 
in  the  air,  and  to  have  a  timid,  sweet-voiced,  pretty  Highland 
girl  suddenly  make  her  appearance,  with  an  odor  of  the  sea 
about  her,  as  it  were,  and  a  look  of  fresh  breezes  in  the  color 
of  her  cheeks — what  mortal  man  could  find  fault  with  this 
innocent  jest?  Sheila's  moments  of  doubt  were  succeeded 
by  long  hours  of  joyous  confidence,  in  which  a  happy  light 
shone  on  her  face.  She  went  through  the  house  with  a  brisk 
step;  she  sang  to  herself  as  she  went;  she  was  kinder  than 
ever  to  the  small  children  who  came  into  the  square  every 
forenoon,  and  whose  acquaintance  she  had  very  speedily 
made;  she  gave  each  of  her  crossing-sweepers  threepence  in- 
stead of  twopence  in  passing.  The  servants  had  never  seen 
her  in  such  good  spirits;  she  was  exceptionally  generous  in 
presenting  them  with  articles  of  attire;  they  might  have  had 
half  the  week  in  holidays,  if  Mr.  Lavender  had  not  to  be 
attended  to.  A  small  gentleman  of  three  years  of  age  lived 
next  door,  and  his  acquaintance  also  she  had  made,  by  means 
of  his  nurse.  At  this  time  his  stock  of  toys,  which  Sheila 
had  kept  carefully  renewed,  became  so  big  that  he  might, 
with  proper  management,  have  set  up  a  stall  in  the  Lowiher 
Arcade. 

Just  before  she  left  Lewis  her  father  had  called  her  to  him 
and  said  :  "Sheila,  I  wass  wanting  to  tell  you  about  some- 
thing.    It  is  not  every  one  that  will  care  to  hei  his  money 


288  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

given  away  to  poor  folk,  and  it  wass  many  a  time  I  said  to 
myself  that  when  you  were  married  maybe  your  husband 
would  think  you  were  giving  too  much  money  to  the  poor 
folk,  as  you  wass  doing  in  Borva.  And  it  iss  this  fifty  pounds 
I  hef  got  for  you,  Sheila,  in  ten  bank  notes,  and  you  will  take 
them  with  you  for  your  own  money,  that  you  will  not  hef 
any  trouble  about  giving  things  to  people.  And  when 
the  fifty  pounds  will  be  gone,  I  will  send  you  another  fifty 
pounds;  and  it  will  be  no  difference  to  me  whatever.  And  if 
there  is  any  one  in  Borva  you  would  be  for  sending  money  to, 
there  is  your  own  money;  for  there  is  many  a  one  would  take 
the  money  from  Sheila  Mackenzie  that  would  not  be  for  tak- 
ing it  from  an  English  stranger  in  London.  And  when 
you  will  send  it  to  them,  you  will  send  it  to  me;  and  I  will 
tek  it  to  them,  and  will  tell  them  that  this  money  is  from  my 
Sheila,  and  from  no  one  else  whatever." 

This  was  all  the  dowry  that  Sheila  carried  with  her  to  the 
South.  Mackenzie  would  willingly  have  given  her  half  his 
money,  if  she  would  have  taken  it,  or  if  her  husband  had  de- 
sired it;  but  the  old  King  of  Borva  had  profound  and  far- 
reaching  schemes  in  his  head  about  the  small  fortune  he 
might  otherwise  have  accorded  to  his  daughter.  This  wealth, 
such  as  it  was,  was  to  be  a  mas  net  to  draw  this  young  Eng- 
lish gentleman  back  to  the  Hebrides.  It  was  all  very  well 
for  Mr.  Lavender  to  have  plenty  of  money  at  present:  he 
might  not  always  have  it.  Then  the  time  would  come  for 
Mackenzie  to  say,  "Look  here,  young  man:  I  can  support 
myself  easily  and  comfortably  by  farming  and  fishing.  The 
money  1  have  is  at  your  disposal  so  long  as  you  consent  to 
remain  in  Lewis — in  Stornoway,  if  you  please;  elsewhere,  if 
you  please — only  in  Lewis.  And  while  you  are  painting  pic- 
tures, and  making  as  much  money  as  you  can  that  way,  you 
can  have  plenty  of  fishing  and  shooting  and  amusement;  and 
my  guns  and  boats  and  rods  are  all  at  your  service."  Mr. 
Mackenzie  considered  that  no  man  could  resist  such  an  offer. 

Sheila,  of  course,  told  her  husband  of  the  sum  of  money 
she  owned,  and  for  a  long  time  it  was  a  standing  joke  be- 
tween them.  He  addressed  her  with  much  respect,  and 
was  careful  to  inform  her  of  the  fluctuations  of  the  money- 
market.  Sometimes  he  borrowed  a  sovereign  of  her,  and 
never  without  giving  her  an  I  O  U,  which  was  faithfully  re- 
claimed.    But    by    and    by   she    perceived    that    he    grew 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  289 

less  and  less  to  like  the  mention  of  this  money.  Perhaps 
it  resembled  too  closely  the  savings  which  the  over-cautious 
folks  about  Borvapost  would  not  entrust  to  a  bank,  but 
kept  hid  about  their  huts  in  the  heel  of  a  stocking.  At  all 
events,  Sheila  saw  that  her  husband  did  not  like  her  to  go  to 
this  fund  for  her  charities;  and  so  the  fifty  pounds  that  her 
father  had  given  her  had  lasted  a  long  time.  During  this 
period  of  jubilation,  in  which  she  looked  forward  to  touch- 
ing her  husband's  heart  by  an  innocent  little  strategem,  more 
frequent  appeals  were  made  to  the  drawer  in  which  the 
treasure  was  locked  up,  so  that,  in  the  end,  her  private 
dowry  was  reduced  to  thirty  pounds. 

If  Ingram  could  have  but  taken  part  in  this  plan  of  hers  ! 
The  only  regret  that  was  mingled  with  her  anticipations  of 
a  happier  future  concerned  chio  faithful  friend  of  hers,  who 
seemed  to  have  been  cut  off  from  them  forever.  And  it  soon 
became  apparent  to  her  that  her  husband,  so  far  from  inclin- 
ing to  forget  the  misunderstanding  that  had  arisen  between 
Ingram  and  himself,  seemed  to  feel  increased  resentment, 
insomuch  that  she  was  most  careful  to  avoid  mentioning  his 
name. 

She  was  soon  to  meet  him,  however.  Lavender  was  re- 
solved that  he  would  not  appear  to  have  retired  from  the 
field  merely  because  Ingram  had  entered  it.  He  would  go 
to  til  is  dinner  on  the  Tuesday  evening,  and  Sheila  would 
accompany  him.  First,  he  asked  her.  Much  as  she  would 
have  preferred  not  visiting  these  particular  people,  she  cheer- 
fully acquiesced ;  she  was  not  going  to  be  churlish  or  incon- 
siderate on  the  very  evs  ot  her  dramatic  coup.  Then  he 
went  to  Mrs,  L  )rraine,  and  said  he  had  persuaded  Sheila  to 
come  with  him;  and  the  young  American  lady  and  her 
mamma  were  good  enough  to  say  how  glad  they  were  she  had 
come  to  this  decision.  They  appeared  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  it  was  Sheila  alone  who  had  declined  former  invita- 
tions. 

"  Mr.  Ingram  will  be  there  on  Tuesday  evening,"  said 
Lavender  to  his  wife. 

"  I  was  not  aware  he  knew  them,"  said  Sheila,  remember- 
ing, indeed,  how  scrupulously  Ingram  had  refused  to  know 
them. 

"  He  has  made  their  acquaintance  for  his  own  purposes, 
doubtless,"  said  Lavender.     "  I  suppose  he  will  appear  in  a 


290  A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

frock-coat,  with  a  bright  blue  tie,  and  he  will  say  *  Sir'  to  the 
waiters  when  he  does  not  understand  them." 

"  I  thought  you  said  Mr.  Ingram  belonged  to  a  very  good 
family,"  said  Sheila,  quietly. 

"  That  is  so.  But  each  man  is  responsible  for  his  own  man- 
ners; and  as  all  the  society  he  sees  consists  of  a  cat  and  some 
wooden  pipes  in  a  couple  of  dingy  rooms  in  Sloane  Street, 
you  can't  expect  him  not  to  make  an  ass  of  himself." 

"  I  have  never  seen  him  make  himself  ridiculous;  I  do  not 
think  it  possible,"  said  Sheila,  with  a  certain  precision  of 
speech  which  Lavender  had  got  to  know  meant  much.  "  But 
that  is  a  matter  for  himself.  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  what  I 
am  to  do  when  I  meet  him  at  Mrs.  Kavanagh's  house." 

'•  Of  course  yon  must  meet  him  as  you  would  any  one 
else,  you  know.  If  you  don't  wish  to  speak  to  him,  you  need 
not  do  so.     Saying  'Good  evening'  costs  nothing." 

"If  he  takes  me  into  dinner?"  she  asked,  calmly. 

"  Then  you  must  talk  to  him  as  you  would  to  any  stran- 
ger," he  said,  impatiently.  "  Ask  him.if  he  has  been  to  the 
opera,  and  he  won't  know  there  is  no  opera  going  on.  Tell 
him  that  the  town  is  very  full,  and  he  won't  know  that  every- 
body has  left.  Say  you  may  meet  him  again  at  Mrs. 
Kavanagh's,  and  you'll  see  that  he  doesn't  know  they  mean 
to  start  for  the  Tyrol  in  a  f  )rtnight.  I  think  you  and  I  must 
also  be  settling  soon  wh,re  we  mean  to  go.  I  don't  think 
we  can  do  better  than  go  to  the  Tyrol." 

She  did  not  answer.  It  was  clear  that  he  had  given  up  all 
intention  of  going  up  to  Lewis,  for  that  year  at  least.  But 
she  would  not  beg  him  to  alter  his  decision  just  yet.  Mairi 
was  coming,  and  that  experiment  of  the  enchanted  room 
has  still  to  be  tried. 

As  they  drove  around  to  Mrs.  Kavanagh's  house  on  that 
Tuesday  evening,  she  thought,  with  much  bitterness  of 
heart,  of  the  possibility  of  her  having  to  meet  Mr.  Ingram  in 
the  fashion  her  husband  had  suggested.  Would  it  not  be 
better,  if  he  did  take  her  in  to  dinner,  to  throw  herself  en- 
tirely on  h's  mercy,  and  ask  him  not  to  talk  to  her  at  alii 
She  would  address  herself,  when  there  was  a  chance,  to  her 
neighbor  on  the  other  side;  if  she  remained  silent  altogether, 
no  great  harm  would  be  done. 

When  she  went  into  the  drawing-room  her  first  glance 
around  was  for  him,  and  he  was  the  first  person  whom  she 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  29 1 

saw;  for,  instead  of  withdrawing  into  a  corner  to  make  one 
neighbor  the  victim  of  his  shyness,  or  concealing  his  embar- 
rassment in  studying  the  photographic  albums,  Mr.  Ingram 
was  coolly  standmg  on  the  hearth-rug,  with  both  hands  in 
his  trousers  pockets,  while  he  was  engaged  in  giving  the 
American  judge  a  great  deal  of  authoritative  information 
about  America.  The  judge  was  a  tall,  fair,  stout,  good-na- 
tured man,  fond  of  joking  and  a  good  dinner,  and  he  was 
content  at  this  momeiit  to  sit  quietly  in  an  easy-chair,  with  a 
pleasant  smile  on  his  face,  and  be  jectured  about  his  own 
country  by  this  sallow  little  man,  whom  he  took  to  be  a  pro- 
fessor of  modern  history  at  some  college  or  other. 

Ingram,  as  soon  as  he  found  that  Sheila  was  in  the  room, 
relieved  her  from  any  doubt  as  to  his  intentions.     He  merely 
came  forward,  shook  hands  wiih  her,  and  said,  "  How  do 
you  do,  Mrs.  Lavender?"  and  went  back  to  the  judge.     She 
might  have  been  an  acquaintance  of  yesterday  or  a  friend  of 
twenty  years'  standing;  no  one  could  tell  by  his  manner.   As 
for  Sheila,  she  parted  with  his  hand  reluctantly.     She  tried 
to  look,  too,  what  she  dared  not  say;  but  whatever  of  regret 
and  kindness  and  assurance  of  friendship  was  in  her  eyes  he 
did  not  see.     He  scarcely  glanced  at  her  face;  he  went  off 
at  once,  and  plunged  again  into  the  Cincinnati  Convention. 
Mrs.  Kavanagh  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  were  exceedingly  and 
almost  obtrusively  kind  to  her,  but  she  scarcely  heard  what 
they  said  to  her.     It  seemed  so  strange  and  so  sad  to  her  that 
her  old  friend  should  be  standing  near  her,  and  she  so  far 
removed  from  him  that  she  dared  not  go  and  speak  to  him. 
She  could  not  understand  it  sometimes :  everytliing  around 
her  seemed  to  get  confused,  until  she  felt  as  if  she  were 
sinking  in  a  great  sea,  and  could  utter  but  one  despairing 
cry  as  she  saw  the  light  disappear  above  her  head.     When 
they  went  in  to  dinner  she  saw  that  Mr.  Ingram's  seat  was  on 
Mrs.  Lorraine's  right  hand,  and,  although  she  could  hear  him 
speak,  as  he  was  almost  right  opposite  to  her,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  his  voice  sounded  as  if  it  were  far  away.     The  man 
who  had  taken  her  in  was  a  tall,  brown-whiskered  and  fault- 
lessly dressed   person   who   never  spoke,  so   that   she   was 
allowed  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  conversatioa  between  Mrs. 
Lorraine  and  Mr.  Ingran.    They  appeared  to  be  on  excellent 
teims.     You  would  have  fancied  they  had  known  each  other 
for  years.     And  as  Sheila  sat  and  saw  how  pre-occupied  and 


292  A     PRINCESS  OF     THULE. 

pleased  with  his  companion  Mr.  Ingram  was,  perhaps  now 
and  again  the  bitter  question  arose  to  her  mind  whether  this 
woman,  who  had  taken  away  her  husband,  was  seeking  to 
take  away  her  friend  also.  Sheila  knew  nothing  of  all  that 
happened  within  these  past  few  days.  She  knew  only  that 
she  was  alone,  without  either  husband  or  friend,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  that  this  pale  American  girl  had  taken  both  away  from 
her. 

Ingram  was  in  one  of  his  happiest  moods,  and  was  seeking 
to  prove  to  Mrs.  Lorraine  that  this  present  dinner-party 
ought  to  be  an  especially  pleasant  one.  Everybody  was 
going  away  somewhere,  and  of  course  she  must  know  that 
the  expectation  of  traveling  was  much  more  delightful  than 
the  reality  of  it.  What  could  surpass  the  sense  of  freedom, 
of  power,  of  hope,  enjoyed  by  the  happy  folks  who  sat  down 
to  an  open  atlas  and  began  to  sketch  out  routes  for  their 
coming  holidays  ?  Where  was  he  going  ?  Oh,  he  was  going 
to  the  North.  Had  Mrs.  Lorraine  never  seen  Edinburgh 
Castle  rising  out  of  a  gray  fog,  like  the  ghost  of  some  great 
building  belonging  to  the  times  of  Arthurian  romance  ?  Had 
she  never  seen  the  Northern  twilights,  and  the  awful  gloom 
and  wild  colors  of  Lock  Coruisk  and  the  Skye  hills?  There 
was  no  holiday-making  so  healthy,  so  free  from  restraint,  as 
that  among  the  far  Highland  hills  and  glens,  where  the  clear 
mountain  air,  scented  with  miles  and  miles  of  heather,  seemed 
to  produce  a  sort  of  intoxication  of  good  spirits  within  one. 
Then  the  yachting  around  the  wondeiful  islands  of  the  West 
— the  rapid  runs  of  a  bright  forenoon,  the  shooting  of  the 
wild  sea-birds,  the  scrambled  dinners  in  the  small  cabin,  the 
still  nights  in  the  small  harbors,  with  a  scent  of  sea-weed 
aboard,  and  the  white  stars  shining  down  on  the  trembling 
water.  Yes,  he  was  going  yachting  this  autumn;  in  about  a 
fortnight  he  hoped  to  start.  His  friend  was  at  present  away 
up  Loch  Boisdale,  in  South  Uist,  and  he  did  not  know  how 
to  get  there  except  by  going  to  Skye,  and  taking  his  chance 
of  some  boat  going  over.  Where  would  they  go  then  ?  He 
did  not  know.  Wherever  his  friend  liked.  It  would  be 
enough  for  him  if  they  kept  always  moving  about,  seeing 
the  strange  sights  of  the  sea  and  the  air  and  the  lonely  shores 
of  those  Northern  islands.  Perhaps  they  might  even  try  to 
reach  St.  Kilda — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ingram,  won't  you  go  and  see  my  papa?" 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  293 

The  cry  that  suddenly  reached  him  was  like  the  cry  of  a 
broken  heart.  He  started  as  from  a  trance,  and  found  Sheila 
regarding  him  with  a  piteous  appeal  in  her  face:  she  had  been 
listening  intently  to  all  he  had  said. 

"  Oh  yes,  Sheila,"  he  said  kindly,  and  quite  forgetting  that 
he  was  speaking  to  her  before  strangers:  "of  course  I  must  go 
and  see  your  papa  if  wc  are  any  way  near  the  Lewis.  Per- 
haps you  may  be  there  then  ?" 

"No,"  said  Sheila,  looking  down. 

"Won't  you  go  to  the  Highlands  this  Autumn?"  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine a'^ked  in  a  friendly  way. 

'•  No,"  said  Sheila  in  a  measured  voice,  as  she  looked  her 
enemy  fair  in  the  face;  "  I  think  we  are  going  to  the  Tyrol.'* 

If  the  child  had  only  known  what  occurred  to  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine's mind  at  this  moment  !  Not  a  triumphant  sense  of 
Lavender's  infatuation,  as  Sheila  probably  fancied,  but  a  very 
definite  resolution  that  if  Frank  Lavender  went  to  the  Tyrol, 
it  was  not  with  either  her  or  her  mother  lie  should  go. 

"Mrs.  Lavender's  father  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  said 
Ingram,  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear;  "and,  hospitable  as  all 
Highlanders  are,  I  have  never  met  his  equal  in  that  way,  and 
I  hav:  tried  his  patience  a  good  many  tmies.  What  do  you 
think,  Mrs.  Lorraine,  of  a  man  who  would  give  up  his  best 
gun  to  you,  even  though  you  couldn't  shoot  a  bit,  and  he 
particularly  proud  of  his  shooting  ?  And  so  if  you  lived  with 
him  for  a  month  or  six  months — each  day  the  best  of  every- 
thing for  you,  the  second  best  for  your  friend,  the  worst  for 
himself.     Wasn't  it  so.  Lavender?" 

It  was  a  direct  challenge  sent  across  the  table,  and  Sheila's 
heart  beat  quick  lest  her  husband  should  say  something  un- 
gracious. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  Lavender  with  a  readiness  that 
pleased  Sheila.  "  I,  at  least,  have  no  right  to  complain  of 
his  hospitality." 

"  Your  papa  is  a  very  handsome  man,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine 
to  Sheila,  brmging  the  conversation  back  to  their  own  end  of 
the  table.  "  1  have  seen  few  finer  heads  than  that  drawing 
you  have.  Mr.  Lavender  did  that,  did  he  not?  Why  has  he 
never  done  one  of  you?" 

"  He  is  too  busy,  I  think,  just  now,"  Sheila  said,  perhaps 
not  knowing  that  from  Mrs.  Lorraine's  waist-belt  at  that  mo- 
ment depended  a  fan  which  might  have  given  evidence  as  to 


294  A   PRINCESS  OF   THULE. 

the  extreme  scarcity  of  time  under  which  Lavender  was  sup- 
posed to  labor. 

"  He  has  a  splendid  head,"  said  Ingram.  "  Did  you  know 
that  he  is  called  the  King  of  Borva  up  there  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  him  being  called  the  King  of  Thule," 
said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  turning  v/ith  a  smile  to  Sheila,  "  and  of 
his  daughter  being  styled  a  princess.  Do  you  know  the  ballad 
of  the  King  of  Thule,  in  Faust,  Mrs.  Lavender  ?" 

"  In  the  opera? — yes,"  said  Sheila. 

"Will  you  sing  it  for  us  after  dinner? " 

"If  you  like." 

The  promise  was  fulfilled,  in  a  fashion.  The  notion  that 
Mr.  Ingram  was  about  to  go  away  up  to  Lewis,  to  the  people 
who  knew  her  and  to  her  father's  house,  with  no  possible 
answer  to  the  questions  which  would  certainly  be  showered 
upon  him  as  to  why  she  had  not  come  also,  troubled  Sheila 
deeply.  The  ladies  went  into  the  drawing-room,  and  Mrs. 
Lorraine  got  out  the  song.  Sheila  sat  down  to  the  piano, 
thinking  far  more  of  that  small  stone  house  at  Borva  than  of 
the  King  of  Thule's  castle  overlooking  the  sea;  and  yetsomC" 
how  the  first  lines  of  the  song,  though  she  knew  them  well 
enough,  sent  a  pang  to  her  heart  as  she  glanced  at  them. 
She  touched  the  first  notes  of  the  accompaniment,  and  she 
looked  at  the  words  again  : 

*'  Over  the  sea,  in  Thule  of  old, 
Reigned  a  king  who  was  true-hearted, 
Who,  in  remembrance  of  one  departed—" 

A  mist  came  over  her  eyes.  Was  she  the  one  who  had  de- 
parted, leaving  the  old  king  in  his  desolate  house  by  the  sea, 
where  he  could  only  think  of  her  as  he  zzX.  in  his  solitary 
chamber,  with  the  night  winds  howling  around  the  shore 
outside  ?  When  her  birthday  had  come  around  she  knew  that 
he  must  have  silently  drank  to  her,  though  not  out  of  a  beaker 
of  gold.  And  now,  when  mere  friends  and  acquaintances 
were  free,  to  speed  away  to  the  North,  and  get  a  welcome 
from  the  folks  in  Borva,  and  listen  to  the  Atlantic  waves  dash- 
ing lightly  in  among  the  rocks,  her  hope  of  getting  thither 
had  almost  died  out.  Among  such  people  as  landed  on  Storno- 
way  quay  from  the  big  Clansman  her  father  would  seek  one 
face,  and  seek  it  in  vain.  And  Duncan  and  Scarlett,  and 
even  John  the  Piper — all  the  well-remembered  folks  who 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  295 

lived  far  away  across  the  Minch — they  would  ask  why  Miss 
Sheila  was  never  coming  back. 

Mrs.  Lorraine  had  been  standing  aside  from  the  piano. 
Noticing  that  Sheila  had  played  the  introduction  to  the 
song  twice  over  in  an  undetermined  manner,  she  came 
forward  a  step  or  two  and  pretended  to  be  looking  at  the 
music.  Tears  were  running  down  Sheila's  face.  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine put  her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  sheltered 
her  from  observation,  and  said  aloud:  "You  have  it  in  a 
different  key,  have  you  not?  Pray  don't  sing  it;  sing 
something  else.  Do  you  know  any  of  Gounod's  sacred 
songs  ?  Let  me  see  if  we  can  hnd  anything  for  you  in  this 
volume." 

They  were  a  long  time  finding  anything  in  that  volume. 
When  they  did  find  it,  behold!  it  was  one  of  Mrs.  Lorraine's 
songs,  and  that  young  lady  said  if  Mrs,  Lavender  would 
only  allow  herself  to  be  superseded  for  a  few  minutes.  And 
so  Sheila  walked,  with  her  head  down,  to  the  conservatory, 
which  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  piano;  and  Mrs.  Lorraine 
not  only  sung  this  French  song,  but  sang  every  one  of  the 
verses;  and  at  the  end  of  it  she  had  quite  forgotten  that 
Sheila  had  promised  to  sing. 

"You  are  very  sensitive,"  she  said  to  Sheila,  coming 
int )  the  conservatory.'' 

''I  am  very  stupid,''  Sheila  said  with  her  face  burning. 
"Bat  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  will  see  the  Highlands — 
and  Mr.  Ingram  was  talking  of  the  places  I  know — and — 
and — so — " 

"  I  understand  well  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine  tenderly, 
as  if  Sheila  was  a  mere  child  in  her  hands.  "But  you 
must  not  get  your  ejes  red.  You  have  to  sing  some  of 
those  Highland  songs  for  us,  when  the  gentlemen  come  in. 
Come  up  to  my  room  and  I  will  make  youv  eyes  all  right. 
Oh,  do  not  be  afraid  !  I  shall  not  bring  you  down  like  Lady 
Leveret.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that  woman's  face 
to-night  ?  It  reminds  me  of  the  window  of  an  oil  and  color 
shop.     I  wonder  she  does  not  catch  flies  with  her  cheeks." 

So  all  the  people.  Sheila  learned  that  night,  were  going 
away  from  London,  and  she  and  her  husband  would  join  in 
the  general  stampede  of  the  very  last  dwellers  in  town.  But 
Mairi?  What  was  to  become  of  her  after  that  little  plot  had 
been  played  out?     Sheila  could  not  leave  Mairi  to  see  Lon- 


296  A    PRINCESS    OF    THUI.E. 

don  by  herself;  she  had  been  enjoying  beforehand  the  de- 
light of  taking  the  young  girl  about  and  watching  the  wonder 
of  her  eyes.  Nor  could  she  fairly  postpone  Mairi's  visit,  and 
Mairi  was  coming  up  in  another  couplj  of  days. 

On  the  morning  on  which  the  visitor  from  th:  far  Hebr'des 
was  to  make  her  appearance  in  London^  Sheila  felt  conscious 
of  a  great  hypocrisy  in  bidding  good-bye  to  her  husband. 
On  some  excuse  or  other  she  had  had  breakfast  ordered 
early,  and  he  found  himself  ready  at  half-past  nine  to  go  out 
for  the  day. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  "  will  you  come  in   to  lunch  at  two?" 

"Why?"  he  asked;  he  did  not  often  have  luncheon  at 
home. 

"  I  will  go  into  the  Park  with  yo'A  in  the  afterneon  if  you 
like,"  she  said ;  all  the  scene  had  oe^n  diligently  reiiear-sd  on 
one  side,  before. 

Lavender  was  a  little  surprised,  b(-a  he  was  in  an  amiable 
mood. 

"  All  right!"  he  said.  "  Have  something  with  olives  in  it. 
Two,  sharp." 

With  that  he  went  out,  and  Sheila-  with  a  wild  commotion 
at  her  heart,  saw  him  walk  away  through  the  square.  She 
was  afraid  Mairi  might  have  arrived  before  he  left.  And, 
indeed,  he  had  not  gone  above  a  few  minutes,  when  a  four- 
wheeler  drove  up,  and  an  elderly  man  got  out  and  waited  for 
the  timid-faced  girl  inside  to  alight.  With  rush  like  that  of 
a  startled  deer.  Sheila  was  down  the  stairs,  along  the  hall  and 
on  the  pavement;  and  it  was:  "Oh,  Mairi;  and  have  you 
come  at  last?  And  are  you  very  well?  And  how  are  all  the 
people  in  Borva?  And  Mr.  M' Alpine,  how  are  you?  and 
will  you  come  into  the  house?" 

Certainlv,  that  was  a  strange  sight  for  a  decorous  London 
square — the  mistress  of  a  house,  a  young  girl  with  bare 
head,  coming  out  on  the  pavement  to  shake  hands  in  a 
frantic  fashion  with  a  young  maid-servant  and  an  elderly 
man  whose  clothes  had  been  pretty  well  tanned  by  sun- 
light and  sea-water!  And  Sheila  would  herself  help  to 
carry  Mairi's  luggage  in.  And  she  would  take  no  denial 
from  Mr.  M'Alpine,  whose  luggage  was  also  carried  in. 
And  she  would  herself  pay  the  cabruan,  as  strangers  did  not 
know  about  these  things,  Sheika's  knowledge  being  ex- 
hibited  by    her    ha&tily  g>"iA%    che.  man    five  shillings  for 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  297 

driving  from  Euston  Station.  And  there  was  breakfast 
waiting  for  them  both  as  soon  as  Mairi  could  get  her  face 
washed;  and  would  Mr.  M' Alpine  have  a  glass  of  whisky 
after  the  night's  traveling?  and  it  was  very  good  whisky 
whatever,  as  it  had  come  all  the  way  from  Stornoway.  Mr. 
M'Alpine  was  nothing  loath. 

"And  wass  you  pretty  well,  Miss  Sheila?"  said  Mairi, 
looking  timidly  and  hastily  up,  and  forgetting  altogether  that 
Sheila  had  another  name  now.  "  It  will  be  a  great  thing  for 
me  to  go  back  to  sa  Lewis,  and  tell  them  1  wass  seeing  you, 
and  you  wass  looking  so  well.  And  I  will  be  thinking  I  wass 
neffer  coming  to  any  one  I  knew  any  more;  and  it  is  a  great 
fright  I  hef  had  since  we  came  away  from  sa  Lewis;  and  I 
wass  thinking  we  would  neffer  find  you  among  all  sa  people 
and  so  far  away  across  sa  sea  and  sa  land.  Eh — !"  The 
girl  stopped  in  astonishment.  Her  eyes  had  wandered  up  to 
a  portrait  on  the  walls;  and  here,  in  this  very  room,  after  she 
had  traveled  over  all  this  great  distance,  apparently  leaving 
behind  her  everything  but  the  memory  of  her  home,  was  Mr. 
Mackenzie  himself,  looking  at  her  from  under  his  shaggy 
eyebrows. 

"You  mu§t  have  seen  that  picture  in  Borva,  Mairi," 
Sheila  said.  "  Now  come  with  me,  like  a  good  girl,  and  get 
yourself  ready  for  breakfast.  Do  you  know,  Mairi,  it  dues 
my  heart  good  to  hear  you  talk  again?  I  don't  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  let  you  go  back  to  the  Lewis," 

"  But  you  hef  changed  ferry  much  in  your  way  of  speak- 
ing, Miss— Mrs.  Lavender,"  said  Mairi,  with  an  effort.  "You 
will  speak  just  like  sa  English  now." 

"  The  English  don't  say  so,"  replied  Sheila,  with  a  smile, 
leading  the  way  up  stairs. 

Mr.  M'Alpine  had  his  business  to  attend  to,  but,  being  a 
sensible  man,  he  took  advantage  of  the  profuse  breakiast 
placed  before  him.  Mairi  was  a  little  too  frightened  and 
nervous  and  happy  to  eat  much,  but  Mr.  M'Alpine  was  an  old 
traveler,  not  to  be  put  out  by  the  mere  meeting  of  two  girls. 
He  listened  in  a  grave  and  complacent  manner  to  the  rapid 
questions  and  answers  of  Mairi  and  her  hostess;  but  he  him- 
self was  too  busy  to  join  in  the  conversation  much.  At  the 
end  of  breakfast  he  accepted,  after  a  little  pressing,  half  a 
glass  of  whisky;  and  then,  much  comforted  and  in  a 
thoroughly  good  humor  with  hiir.self  and  the  world,  got  his 


298  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

luggage  out  again  and  went  on  his  way  toward  a  certain  inn 
in  High  Holborn. 

"Ay,  and  where  does  the  queen  live,  Miss  Sheila?"  said 
Mairi.  She  had  been  looking  at  the  furniture  in  Sheila's 
house,  and  wondering  if  the  queen  lived  in  a  place  still  more 
beautiful  than  this. 

"  A  long  way  from  here." 

"And  it  iss  no  wonder,"  said  Mairi,  "she  will  neffer  hef 
been  in  sa  Lewis.  I  wass  neffer  thinking  the  world  wass  so 
big,  and  it  wass  many  a  time  since  me  and  Mr.  M' Alpine  hef 
come  away  from  Styornoway  I  wass  thinking  it  wass  too  far 
for  me  effer  to  get  back  again.  But  it  iss  many  a  one  will  say 
to  me,  before  I  hef  left  the  Lewis,  that  I  wass  not  to  come 
home  unless  you  waas  coming,  too,  and  I  wass  to  bring  you 
back  with  me,  Miss  Sheila.  And  where  is  Bras,  Miss  Sheila  ?" 

"  You  will  see  him  by  and  by.  He  is  out  in  the  garden 
now.     She  said  "  gyarden  "  without  knowing  it. 

"And  will  he  understand  the  Gaelic  yet?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  Sheila  said.  "And  he  is  sure  to  remember 
you." 

There  was  no  mistake  about  that.  When  Mairi  went  into 
the  back  garden  the  demonstrations  of  delight  on  the  part 
of  the  great  deerhound  were  as  pronounced  as  his  dignity 
and  gravity  would  allow.  And  Mairi  fairly  fell  upon  his 
neck  and  kissed  him,  and  addressed  to  him  a  hundred  en- 
dearing phrases  in  Gaelic,  every  word  of  which  it  was  quite 
obvious  that  the  dog  understood.  London  was  already 
beginning  to  be  less  terrible  to  her.  She  had  met  and  talked 
with  Sheila.  Here  was  Bras.  A  portrait  of  the  King  of 
Borva  was  hung  up  inside,  and  all  around  the  rooms  were 
articles  which  she  had  known  in  the  North,  before  Sheila 
had  married  and  brought  them  away  into  this  strange  land. 

"You  have  never  asked  after  my  husband,  Maiii,"  said 
Sheila,  thinking  to  confuse  the  girl. 

But  Mairi  was  not  confused.  Probably  she  had  been  fancy- 
ing that  Mr.  Lavender  was  down  at  the  shore,  or  had  gone 
out  fishing,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  would  return  soon 
enough.  It  was  Sheila,  not  he,  whom  she  was  concerned 
about.  Indeed,  Mairi  had  caught  up  a  little  of  that  jealousy 
of  Lavender  which  was  rife  among  the  Borva  folks.  They 
would  speak  no  ill  of  Mr.  Lavender.  The  young  gentleman 
whom  Miss  Sheila  had  chosen  had  by  that  very  fact  a  claim 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  299 

upon  their  respect.  Mr  Mackenzie's  son-in-law  was  a  person 
of  importance.  And  yet  in  their  secret  hearts  they  bore  a 
grudge  against  him.  What  right  had  he  to  come  away  up  to 
the  North  and  carry  off  the  very  pride  of  the  island?  Were 
English  girlij  not  good  enough  for  him,  that  he  must  needs 
come  up  and  takeaway  Sheila  Mackenzie,  and  keep  her  there 
in  the  South  so  that  her  friends  and  acquaintances  saw  no 
more  of  her?  Before  the  marriage  Mairi  had  a  great  liking 
and  admiration  for  Mr.  Lavender.  She  was  so  pleased  to  see 
Miss  Sheila  pleased  that  she  approved  of  the  young  man, 
and  thanking  him  in  her  heart  for  making  her  cousin  and 
mistress  so  obviously  happy.  Perhaps,  indeed,  Mairi  man- 
aged to  fall  in  love  with  him  a  little  bit  herself,  merely  by 
force  of  example  and  through  sympathy  with  Sheila;  and 
she  was  rapidly  forming  very  good  opinions  of  the  English 
race  and  their  ways  and  their  looks.  But  when  Lavender 
took  away  Sheila  from  Borvaa  change  came  over  Mairi's  sen- 
timents. She  gradually  fell  in  with  the  current  opinions  of 
the  island — that  it  was  a  great  pity  Sheila  had  not  married 
young  Mr.  Maclntyre  of  Sutherland,  or  some  one  who  would 
have  allowed  her  to  remain  among  her  own  people.  Mairi 
began  to  think  that  the  English,  though  they  were  handsome 
and  good-natured,  and  free  with  their  money,  were  on  the 
whole  a  selfish  race,  inconsiderate  and  forgetful  of  promises. 
She  began  to  dislike  the  English,  and  wished  they  would 
stay  in  their  own  country,  and  not  interfere  with  other 
people. 

"  I  hope  he  is  very  well,"  said  Mairi,  dutifully;  she  could 
at  least  say  that  honestly. 

"  You  will  see  him  at  two  o'clock.  He  is  coming  in  to 
luncheon;  and  he  does  not  know  you  are  here,"  and  you  are 
to  be  a  great  surprise  to  him,  Mairi.  And  there  is  to  be  a 
greater  surprise  still ;  for  we  are  going  to  make  one  of  the 
rooms  into  the  drawing-room  at  home;  and  you  must  open 
your  boxes,  and  bring  me  down  the  heather  and  the  peat, 
Mairi,  and  the  two  bottles;  and  then,  you  know,  when  the 
salmon  is  on  the  table,  and  the  whisky  and  the  beer,  and 
Bras  lying  on  the  hearth-rug,  and  the  peat-smoke  all  through 
the  room,  then  you  will  come  in  and  shake  hands  with  him, 
and  he  will  think  he  is  in  Borva  again." 

Mairi  was  a  little  puzzled.  She  did  not  understand  the  in- 
tention of  this  strange  thing.     But  she  went  and  fetched  the 


300  A   PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

materials  she  had  brought  with  her  from  Lewis,  and  Sheila 
and  she  set  to  work. 

It  was  a  pleasant  enough  occupation  for  this  bright  fore- 
noon, and  Sheila,  as  she  had  heard  Mairi's  sweet  Highland 
speech,  and  as  she  brought  from  all  parts  of  the  house  the 
curiosities  sent  her  from  the  Hebrides,  would  almost  have 
fancied  she  was  superintending  a  "cleaning"  of  that  museum- 
like little  drawing-room  at  Borva.  Skins  of  foxes,  seals  and 
deer,  stuffed  eagles  and  strange  fishes,  masses  of  coral  and 
wonderful  carvings  in  wood  brought  from  abroad,  shells  of 
every  size  from  every  clime — all  these  were  brought  together 
into  Frank  Lavender's  smoking-room.  The  ordinary  orna- 
ments of  the  mantelpiece  gave  way  to  fanciful  arrangements 
of  peacock's  feathers.  Fresh-blown  ling  and  the  btautiful 
spikes  of  the  bell-heather  formed  the  staple  of  the  decora- 
tions, and  Mairi  had  brought  enough  to  adorn  an  assembly 
room. 

"That  is  like  the  Lewis  people,"  Sheila  said, with  a  laugh; 
she  had  not  been  in  as  happy  a  mood  for  many  a  day.  "  1 
asked  you  to  bring  one  peat,  and  of  course  you  brought  two. 
Tell  the  truth,  Mairi:  could  you  have  forced  yourself  to 
bring  one  peat  ?" 

"  I  wass  thinking  it  was  safer  to  bring  sa  two,"  replied 
Mairi,  blushing  all  over  the  fair  and  pretty  face. 

And,  indeed,  there  being  two  peats.  Sheila  thought  she 
might  as  well  try  an  experiment  with  one.  She  crumbled 
down  some  pieces,  put  them  on  a  plate,  lit  them,  and  placed 
the  plate  outside  the  open  window,  on  the  soil.  Presently 
a  new,  sweet,  half-forgotten  fragrance  came  floating  in,  and 
Sheila  almost  forgot  the  success  of  the  experiment  in  the 
half-delighted,  half-sad  reminiscences  called  up  by  the  scent 
of  the  peat.  Mairi  failed  to  see  how  any  one  couldwillfully 
smoke  a  house — any  one,  that  is  to  say,  who  did  not  save  the 
smoke  for  his  thatch.  And  who  was  so  particular  as  Sheila 
had  been  about  having  the  clothes  come  in  from  the  wash- 
ing dried  so  that  they  should  not  retain  this  very  odor  that 
seemed  now  to  delight  her? 

At  last  the  room  was  finished,  and  Sheila  contemplated  it 
with  much  satisfaction.  The  table  was  laid,  and  on  the  white 
cloth  stood  the  bottles  most  familiar  to  Borva.  The  peat- 
smoke  still  lingered  in  the  air;  she  could  not  have  wished 
anything  to  be  better. 


A  PRINCESS   OF   THULE,  3OI 

Then  she  went  off  to  look  after  the  luncheon,  and  Mairi 
was  permitted  to  go  down  and  explore  the  mysteries  of  the 
kitchen.  The  servants  were  not  accustomed  to  this  inter- 
ference and  oversight,  and  might  have  resented  it,  only  that 
Sheila  had  proved  a  very  good  mistress  to  them,  and  had 
shown,  too,  that  she  would  have  her  own  way  when  she  wanted 
it.  Suddenly,  as  Sheila  was  explaining  to  Mairi  the  use  of 
some  particular  piece  of  mechanism,  she  heard  a  sound  that 
made  her  heart  jump.  It  was  now  but  half-past  one,  and  yet 
that  was  surely  her  husband's  foot  in  the  hall.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  was  too  bewildered  to  know  what  to  do.  She  heard 
him  go  straight  into  the  very  room  she  had  been  decorating, 
the  door  of  which  she  had  left  open.  Then,  as  she  went  up- 
stairs, with  her  heart  still  beating  fast,  the  first  thing  that  met 
her  eyes  was  a  tartan  shawl  belonging  to  Mairi  that  had  been 
accidentally  left  in  the  passage.  Her  husband  must  have 
seen  it. 

"  Sheila,  what  nonsense  is  this?"  he  said. 

He  was  evidently  in  a  hurry,  and  yet  she  could  not  answer; 
her  heart  was  throbbing  too  quickly 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  •'  1  wish  you'd  give  up  this  grotto- 
making  till  to-morrow.  Mrs,  Kavanagh,  Mrs.  Lorraine  and 
Lord  Arthur  Redmond  are  coming  here  to  luncheon  at  two. 
I  suppose  you  can  get  something  decent  for  them.  What  is 
the  matter?     What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?" 

And  then  his  eyes  rested  on  the  tartan  shawl,  which  he  had 
really  not  noticed  before, 

"  Who  is  in  the  house  ?"  he  said.  "  Have  you  asked  some 
washerwoman  to  lunch?" 

Sheila  managed  at  last  to  say,  "It  is  Mairi  come  from 
Stornoway,  I  was  thinking  you  would  be  surprised  to  see 
her  when  you  came  in," 

"And  these  preparations  are  for  her?'' 

Sheila  said  nothing  there  was  ihat  in  the  tone  of  her  hus- 
band's voice  which  was  gradually  bringing  her  to  herself  and 
giving  her  quite  sufficient  firmness. 

f'And  now  that  ihis  girl  has  come  up,  I  suppose  you 
mean  to  introduce  her  to  all  your  friends;  and  I  suppose 
you  expect  those  people  who  are  coming  in  half  an  hour  to 
sit  down  at  table  with  a  kitchen-maid?" 

"Mairi,"  said  Sheila,  standing  quite  erect,  but  with  her 
eyes  cast  down,  "  is  my  cousin." 


302  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"Your  cousin!  Don't  be  ridiculous,  Sheila.  You  know 
very  well  that  Mairi  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  scullery- 
maid;  and  I  suppose  you  mean  to  take  her  out  of  the 
kitchen  and  introduce  her  to  people,  and  expect  her  to  sit 
down  at  table  with  them.  Is  not  that  so  ?"  She  did  not 
answer,  and  he  went  on,  impatiently:  "Why  was  I  not 
told  that  this  girl  was  coming  to  stay  at  my  house?  Surely 
I  have  some  right  to  know  what  guests  you  invite,  that  I 
may  be  able  at  least  to  ask  my  friends  not  to  come  near 
the  house  while  they  are  in  it." 

"That  I  did  not  tell  you  before — yes,  that  was  a  pity," 
said  Sheila,  sadly  and  calmly.  "  But  it  will  be  no  trouble  to 
you.  When  Mrs.  Lorraine  comes  up  at  two  o'clock  there 
will  be  luncheon  for  her  and  for  her  friends.  She  will  not 
have  to  sit  down  with  any  of  my  relations  or  with  me,  for  if 
they  are  not  fit  to  meet  her,  I  am  not ;  and  it  is  not  any  great 
matter  that  I  do  not  meet  her  at  two  o'clock.'' 

There  was  no  passion  of  any  sort  in  the  measured  and  sad 
voice,  nor  in  the  somewhat  pale  face  and  downcast  eyes. 
Perhaps  it  was  this  composure  that  deceived  Frank  Lavender; 
at  all  events,  he  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  house,  satisfied 
that  he  would  not  have  to  introduce  this  Highland  cousin  to 
his  friends,  and  just  as  certain  that  Sheila  would  repeUv  of 
her  resolve  and  appear  in  the  dining-room  as  usual. 

Sheila  went  down  stairs  to  the  kitchen,  where  Mairi  still 
stood  awaiting  her.  She  gave  orders  to  one  of  the  servants 
about  having  luncheon  laid  in  the  dining-room  at  two,  and 
then  she  bade  Mairi  follow  her  up-stairs. 

"  Mairi,"  she  said,  when  they  were  alone,  "  I  want  you  co 
put  your  things  in  your  trunk  at  once — in  five  minutes,  if 
you  can;  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you." 

"  Miss  Sheila  !"  cried  the  girl,  looking  up  to  her  friend'? 
face  with  a  sudden  fright  seizing  her  heart,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you  ?     You  are  going  to  die  !" 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter,  Mairi.     I  am  going  away." 

She  uttered  the  words  placidly,  but  there  was  a  pained 
look  about  the  lips  that  could  not  be  concealed,  and  her 
face,  unknown  to  herself,  had  the  whiteness  of  despair  in  it. 

"  Going  away  !''  said  Mairi,  in  a  bewildered  way.  "  Where 
are  you  going,  Miss  Sheila?" 

"I  will  tell  you  by  and  by.  Get  your  trunk  ready,  Mairi. 
You  are  keeping  me  waiting." 


A    FKINv^LbS     OF     THULE.  303 

Then  she  called  for  a  servant,  who  was  sent  for  a  cab;  and 
by  the  time  the  vehicle  appeared  Mairi  was  ready  to  get  into 
it,  and  her  trunk  was  put  on  the  top.  Then,  clad  in  the 
rough  blue  dress  she  used  to  wear  in  Borva,  and  with  no  ap- 
pearance of  haste  or  fear  in  the  calm  and  death-like  face, 
Sheila  came  out  from  her  husband's  house  and  found  herself 
alone  in  the  world.  There  were  two  little  girls,  the  daughters 
of  a  neighbor,  passing  by  at  the  time;  she  patted  them  on 
the  head  and  bade  them  good-morning.  Could  she  recollect, 
five  minutes  thereafter,  having  seen  them?  There  was  a 
strange  and  distant  look  in  her  eyes. 

She  30t  into  the  cab,  and  sat  down  by  Mairi,  and  then 
took  the  girl's  hand.  "  I  am  sorry  to  take  you  away,  Mairi," 
she  said;  but  she  was  apparently  not  thinking  of  Mairi,  nor 
of  the  house  she  was  leaving,  nor  yet  of  the  vehicle  in  which 
she  was  so  strangely  placed  Was  she  thinking  of  a  certain 
wild  and  wet  day  in  the  far  Hebrides,  when  a  young  bride 
stood  on  the  decks  of  a  great  vessel  and  saw  the  home  of  her 
childhood  and  the  friends  of  her  youth  fade  back  into  the 
desolate  waste  of  the  sea?  Perhaps  there  may  have  been 
some  unconscious  influence  in  this  picture  to  direct  her 
movements  at  this  moment,  for  of  definite  resolves  she  had 
none.  When  Mairi  told  her  that  the  cabman  wanted  to  know 
whither  he  was  to  drive,  she  merely  answered:  "  Oh,  yes, 
Mairi,  we  will  go  to  the  station/'  and  Mairi  added,  address- 
ing the  man:  "It  was  the  Euston  Station."  Then  they 
drove  away. 

"Are  you  going  homo?"  ::aid  the  young  girl,  looking  up 
with  a  strange  foreboding  and  linking  of  the  heart  to  the 
pale  face  and  distant  eyes — "are  you  going  home.  Miss 
Sheila  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  are  going  home,  Mairi,"  was  the  answer  she 
got,  but  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered  filled  her  mind  with 
doubt,  and  something  like  despair. 


A    PRI^'CiJs?    OF    THULE, 


PART  IX. 


CHAPTER    XIX 


A     NEW     DAY     BREAKS. 


Was  this,  then,  the  end  of  the  fair  and  beautiful  romance 
that  had  sprung  up  and  blossomed  so  hopefully  in  the  remote 
and  bleak  island,  amid  the  silence  of  the  hills  and  moors  and 
the  wild  twilights  of  the  North,  and  set  around  about,  as  it 
were,  by  the  cold  sea-winds  and  the  sound  of  the  Atlantic 
waves  ?  Who  could  have  fancied,  looking  at  those  two  young 
folks  as  they  wandered  about  the  shores  of  the  island,  as  they 
sailed  on  the  still  moonlight  nights  through  the  channels  of 
Loch  Roag,  or  as  they  sang  together  of  an  evening  in  the  lit- 
tle parlor  of  the  house  at  Borvapost,  that  all  the  delight  and 
wonder  of  life  then  apparently  opening  out  before  them  was 
so  soon  and  so  suddenly  to  collapse,  leaving  them  in  outer 
darkness  and  despair?  All  their  difficulties  had  been  got 
over.  From  one  side  and  from  another  they  had  received 
generous  help,  friendly  advice,  self-sacrifice,  to  start  them  on 
a  path  that  seemed  to  be  strewn  with  sweet-smelling  flowers. 
And  here  was  the  end — a  wretched  girl,  blinded  and  bewild- 
ered, flying  from  her  husband's  house  and  seeking  refuge  in 
the  great  world  of  London,  careless  whither  she  went. 

Whose  was  the  fault  ?  Which  of  them  had  been  mistaken 
up  there  in  the  North,  laying  the  way  open  for  a  bitter  dis- 
appointment ?  Or  had  either  of  them  failed  to  carry  out 
that  unwritten  contract  entered  into  in  the  halcyon  period 
of  courtship,  by  which  young  people  promise  to  be  and  re- 
main to  each  oiher  all  that  they  then  appeared  ? 

Lavender,  at  leasi,  had  no  right  to  complain.  If  the  real 
Sheila  turned  out  to  be  something  dificient  from  the 
Sheila  of  his  fancy,  he  had  been  abundantly  Avarned  that 
such  would  be  the  case.    He  had  even  accepted  it  as  proba- 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  305 

ble,  and  said  that  as  the  Sheila  whom  he  misfht  come  to 
know  must  doubtless  be  better  than  the  Sheila  whom  he  had 
imagined,  there  was  little  danger  in  store  for  either.  He 
would  love  the  true  Sheila  even  better  than  the  creature  of 
his  brain.  Had  he  done  so  ?  He  found  beside  him  this 
proud  and  sensitive  Highland  girl,  full  of  generous  impulses 
that  craved  for  the  practical  work  of  helping  other  people, 
longing,  with  the  desire  of  a  caged  bird,  for  the  free  winds 
and  light  of  heaven,  the  sight  of  hills  and  the  sound  of  seas, 
and  he  could  not  understand  why  she  could  not  conform  to 
the  usages  of  city  life.  He  was  disappointed  that  she  did 
not  do  so.  The  imaginative  Sheila,  who  was  to  appear  as  a 
wonderful  sea-princess  in  London  drawing-rooms,  had  dis- 
appeared now;  and  the  real  Sheila,  who  did  not  care  to  go 
with  him  into  that  society  which  he  loved,  or  affected  to 
love,  he  had  not  learned  to  know. 

And  had  she  been  mistaken  in  her  estimate  of  Frank 
Lavender's  character?  At  the  very  moment  of  her  leaving 
her  husband's  house,  if  she  had  been  asked  the  question,  she 
would  have  turned  and  proudly  answered,  "  No  !"  She  had 
ibeen  disappointed — so  grievously  disappointed  that  her  heart 
sremed  to  be  breaking  over  it — but  the  manner  in  which 
Frank  Lavender  had  fallen  away  from  all  the  promises  he  had 
given  was  due,  not  to  himself,  but  to  the  influence  of  the 
society  around  him.  Of  that  she  was  quite  assured.  He  had 
shown  himself  careless,  indifferent,  inconsiderate  to  the  verge 
of  cruelty ;  but  he  was  not,  she  had  convinced  herself,  con- 
sciously cruel,  nor  yet  selfish,  nor  radically  bad-hearted  in 
any  way.  In  her  opinion,  at  least,  he  was  courageously 
sincere,  to  the  verge  of  shocking  people  who  mistook  his 
frankness  for  impudence.  He  was  recklessly  generous:  he 
would  have  given  the  coat  off  his  back  to  a  beggar,  at  the 
instigation  of  a  sudden  impulse,  provided  he  could  have  got 
into  a  cab  before  any  of  his  friends  saw  him.  He  had  rare 
abilities,  and  at  times  wildly  ambitious  (ireams,  not  of  his 
own  glorification,  but  of  what  he  would  do  to  celebrate  the 
beauty  and  the  graces  of  the  princess  whom  he  fancied  he 
had  married.  It  may  seem  hard  of  belief  that  this  man, 
judging  him  by  his  actions  at  this  time,  could  have  had  any- 
thing of  thorough  self-forgetfulness  and  manliness  in  his 
"j'ature.  But  when  things  were  at  their  very  worst,  when  he 
lippeared  to  the  world  as  a  self-indulgent  idler,  careless  of  a 


306  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

noble  v/oman's  unbounded  love;  when  his  indifference,  or 
worse,  had  actually  driven  from  his  house  a  young  wife  who 
had  especial  claims  on  his  forbearance  and  consideration — 
there  were  two  people  who  still  believed  in  Frank  Lavender. 
They  were  Sheila  Mackenzie  and  Edward  Ingram  ;  and  a 
man's  wife  and  his  oldest  friend  generally  know  something 
about  his  real  nature,  its  besetting  temptations,  its  weakness, 
its  strength  and  its  possibilities. 

Of  course  Ingram  was  speedily  made  aware  of  all  that 
had  happened.  Lavender  went  home  at  the  appointed  hour 
to  luncheon  accompanied  by  his  three  acquaintances.  He 
had  met  them  accidentally  in  the  forenoon,  and  as  Mrs. 
Lorraine  was  most  particular  in  her  inquiries  about  Sheila, 
he  thought  he  could  not  do  better  than  ask  her  there  and 
then  with  her  mother  and  Lord  Arthur,  to  have  luncheon  at 
two.  What  followed  on  his  carrying  the  announcement  to 
Sheila  we  knovi^.  He  left  the  house,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
there  would  be  no  trouble  when  he  returned.  Perhaps  he  re- 
proached himself  for  having  spoken  so  sharply,  but  Sheila  was 
really  very  thoughtless  in  such  matters.  At  two  o'clock 
everything  would  be  right.  Sheila  must  see  how  it  would  be 
impossible  to  introduce  a  young  Highland  serving-maid  to 
two  fastidious  ladies  and  the  son  of  a  great  Conservative 
peer. 

Lavender  met  his  three  friends  once  more,  and  walked  up 
to  the  house  with  them,  letting  them  in,  indeed,  with  his 
own  latch-key.  Passing  the  dining-room,  he  saw  that  the 
table  was  laid  there.  This  was  well.  Sheila  had  been 
reasonable. 

They  went  up-stairs  to  the  drawing-room.  Sheila  was  not 
there.  Lavender  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  the  servant  tell  her 
mistress  she  was  wanted. 

"  Mrs.  Lavender  has  gone  out,  sir,"  said  the  servant. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  he  said,  taking  the  matter  quite  coolly. 
"When?" 

"  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir.  She  went  out  with  the — 
the  young  lady  who  came  this  morning." 

"  Very  well.     Let  me  know  when  luncheon  is  ready." 

Lavender  turned  to  his  guests,  feeling  a  little  awkward,  but 
appearing  to  treat  the  matter  in  a  light  and  humorous  way. 
He  imagined  that  Sheila,  resenting  what  he  had  said,  had  re- 
solved to  take  Mairi  away  and  find  her  lodgings  elsewhere. 


A    PRINCESS    CF    THULE.  307 

Perhaps  that  might  be  done  in  time  to  let  Sheila  come  back 
to  receive  his  guests. 

Sheila  did  not  appear,  however,  and  luncheon  was  an- 
nounced. 

"  I  suppose  we  may  as  well  go  down,"  said  Lavender,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  impossible  to  say  when  she 
may  come  back.  She  is  such  a  good-hearted  creature  that 
she  would  never  think  of  herself  or  her  own  affairs  in  look- 
ing after  this  girl  from  Lewis," 

They  went  down  stairs  and  took  their  places  at  the  table. 
"For  my  part,"  said   Mrs,  Lorraine,  "I  think  it  is  very 
unkind  not  to  wait  for  poor  Mrs,  Lavender.     She  may  come 
in  dreadfully  tired  and  hungry." 

"  But  that  would  not  vex  her  so  much  as  the  notion  that 
you  had  waited  on  her  account,"  said  Sheila's  husband,  with 
a  smile;  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  pleased  to  hear  him  sometimes 
speak  in  a  kindly  way  of  the  Highland  girl  whom  he  had 
married. 

Lavender's  guests  were  going  somewhere  after  luncheon, 
and  he  had  half-promised  to  go  wiih  them,  Mrs,  Lorrainr 
stipulating  that  Sheila  should  be  induced  to  come  also.  But 
when  luncheon  was  over  and  Sheila  had  not  appeared,  he 
changed  his  intention.  He  would  remain  at  home.  He  saw 
his  three  friends  depart,  and  went  into  the  study  and  lit  a 
cigar. 

How  odd  the  place  seemed.  Sheila  had  left  no  instruc- 
tions about  the  removal  of  those  barbaric  decorations  she 
had  placed  in  the  chamber;  and  here  around  him  seemed  to 
be  the  walls  of  the  old-fashioned  little  room  at  Borvapost, 
with  its  big  shells,  i's  peacocks'  feathers,  its  skins  and  stuffed 
fish,  and  masses  of  crimson  bell-heather.  Was  there  not, 
too,  an  odor  of  peat  smoke  in  the  air  ? — and  then  his  eyes 
caught  sight  of  the  plate  that  still  stood  on  the  window- 
sill,  with  the  ashes  of  the  burned  peat  on  it. 

"  The  odd  child  she  is!"  he  thought,  with  a  smile,  "to 
go  playing  at  grotto-making,  and  trying  to  fancy  she  was 
up  in  Lewis  again!  I  suppose  she  would  like  to  let  her 
hair  down  agam,  and  take  off  her  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
go  wading  along  the  sand  in  search  of  shell-fish." 

And  then,  somehow,  his  fancies  went  back  to  the  old  time 
when  he  had  first  seen  and  admired  her  wild  ways,  her  fear- 
less occupations  by  sea  and  shore,  and  the  delight  of  active 


308  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

work  that  shone  on  her  bright  face  and  in  her  beautiful  eyesL 
How  lithe  and  handsome  her  figure  used  to  be  in  that  blue 
dress,  when  she  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  boat,  her  head 
bent  back,  her  arms  up-tretched  and  puUing  at  some  rope  or 
other,  and  all  the  fine  color  of  exertion  in  che  bloom  of  her 
cheeks  !  Then  the  pride  with  which  she  saw  her  little  vessel 
cutting  through  the  water  ! — how  she  tightened  her  lips  wiii 
a  joyous  determination  as  the  sheets  were  hauled  close,  and 
the  gunwale  of  the  small  boat  heeled  over  so  that  it  almost 
touched  the  hissing  and  gurgling  foam  ! — how  she  laughed  at 
Duncan's  anxiety  as  she  rounded  some  rocky  point,  and  sent 
the  boat  spinning  into  the  clear  and  smooth  waters  of  ths 
bay  !  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  too  bad  to  keep  the  poor 
child  so  long  shut  up  in  a  city.  She  was  evidently  longing 
for  a  breath  of  sea  air,  and  for  some  brief  dash  of  that  brisk, 
fearless  life  on  the  sea-coast  that  she  used  to  love.  It  was  c 
happy  life,  after  all;  and  he  had  hunjclt'  enjoyed  it  when  hio 
hands  and  face  got  browned  by  the  sun,  when  he  grew  tc 
wonder  how  any  human  being  coukl  wear  black  garmentc 
and  drink  foreign  wines  and  smoke  cigars  "at  eighteenpence 
a  piece,  so  long  as  frieze  coats,  whisky  and  a  brier-root  pipe 
were  procurable.  How  one  slept  up  in  that  remote  island, 
after  all  the  laughing  and  drinking  and  singing  of  the  even- 
ing were  over!  How  sharp  was  the  monition  of  hunger 
when  the  keen  sea  air  blew  about  your  face  on  issuing  out 
Ti  the  morning  1  and  how  fresh  and  cool  and  sweet  was  that 
earlj'  breeze,  with  the  scent  of  Sheila's  flowers  in  it  !  Then 
the  long,  bright  day  at  the  river-side,  with  the  black  pools 
rippling  i::  the  wind,  and  in  the  silence  of  the  rapid  whistle 
of  the  silken  line  through  the  air,  with  now  and  then  che  ''blob" 
of  a  big  salmon  rising  to  a  fly  further  down  the  pool  !  Where 
was  there  any  rest  like  the  rest  of  the  mid-day  lu  ncheon,  when 
Duncan  had  put  the  big  fish,  wrapped  in  rushe;,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  nearest  rock,  when  you  sat  down  on  the 
warm  heather  and  lit  your  pipe,  and  began  to  inquire  where 
you  had  been  bitten  on  hands  and  neck  by  the  ferocious 
"clegs  ''  while  you  are  too  busy  in  playing  a  fifteen-pounder 
to  care  ?  Then,  perhaps,  as  you  were  sitting  there  in  tl  -^ 
warm  sunlight,  with  c^ll  the  fresh  scents  of  moorland  around, 
you  would  hear  a  lirht  footstep  on  the  soft  moss°^  and, 
turning  around,  here  was  Sheila  herself,  with  a  bright  look 
in  her  pretty  eyes,  and  a  half   blush   on   her   cheek,   and   a 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  309 

friendly  inquiry  as  to  the  way  the  fish  had  been  behaving. 
Then  the  beautiful,  strange,  cool  evenings  on  the  shores  of 
Loch  Roag,  with  the  wild,  clear  light  still  shining  in  the 
Northern  heavens,  and  the  sound  of  the  waves  getting  to 
be  lonely  and  distant;  or,  still  late,  out  in  Sheila's  boat, 
with  the  great  yellow  moon  rising  up  over  Suainabhal  and 
Mealasabhal  into  a  lambent  vault  of  violet  sky;  a  pathway  of 
quivering  gold  lying  across  the  Loch;  a  mild  radiance 
glittering  here  and  there  on  the  spars  of  the  small  vessel, 
and  out  "there  the  great  Atlantic  lying  still  and  distant  as 
in  a  dream.  As  he  sat  in  this  little  room  and  thought 
of  all  the^e  things,  he  grew  to  think  he  had  not  acted  quite 
fairly  to  Sheila.  She  was  so  fond  of  that  beautiful  island  life, 
and  she  had  not  even  visited  the  Lewis  since  her  marriage 
She  should  go  now.  He  would  abandon  the  trip  to  the 
Tyrol,  and  as  soon  as  arrangements  could  be  made  they 
would  together  start  for  the  North,  and  some  day  find  them- 
selves going  up  the  steep  shore  to  Sheila's  home,  with  the 
old  King  of  Borva  standing  in  the  porch  of  the  house,  and 
endeavoring  to  conceal  his  nervousness  by  swearing  at 
Duncan's  method  of  carrying  the  luggage. 

Had  not  Sheila's  stratagem  succeeded?  That  pretty  trick 
of  hers  in  decorating  the  room  so  as  to  resemble  the  huuse  at 
Borvapost  had  done  all  that  she  could  have  desired.  But 
where  was  she  ? 

Lavender  rose  hastily  and  looked  at  his  watch.  Then  he 
rang  the  bell,  and  a  servant  appeared.  "Did  not  Mrs. 
Lavender  say  when  she  would  return  ?  "  he  asked. 

''No,  sir." 

"  You  don't  know  where  she  went  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  The  young  lady's  luggage  was  put  in  the  cab, 
and  they  drove  away  without  leaving  any  message." 

He  scarcely  dared  confess  to  himself  what  fears  began  to 
assail  him.  He  went  up-stairs  to  Sheila's  room,  and  there 
everything  appeared  to  be  in  its  usual  place,  even  to  the 
smallest  article  on  the  dressing-table.  1  hey  were  all  there, 
except  one.  That  was  a  locket,  too  large  and  clumsy  to  be 
worn,  which  some  one  had  given  her  years  before  she  left 
Lewis,  and  in  which  her  father's  portrait  had  been  somewhat 
rudely  set.  Just  after  their  marriage  Lavender  had  taken 
but  this  portrait,  touched  it  up  a  bit  into  somewhat  of  a  bet- 
ter Ukeness,  and  put  it  back ;  and  then  she  had  persuaded 


3I<^  A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

him  to  have  a  photograph  of  himself  colored  and  placed  on 
the  opposite  side.  This  locket  open,  and  showing  both  por- 
traits, she  had  fixed  on  to  a  small  stand,  and  in  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances it  always  stood  on  one  side  of  her  dressing-table. 
The  stand  was  there,  the  locket  was  gone. 

He  went  down-stairs  again.  The  afternoon  was  drawing 
on.  A  servant  came  to  ask  him  at  what  hour  he  wished  to 
dine;  he  bade  her  wait  till  her  mistress  came  home  and  con- 
sult her.     Then  he  went  out. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  quiet  afternoon,  with  a  warm  light  from 
the  West  shining  over  the  now  yellowing  trees  of  the 
squares  and  gardens.  He  walked  down  toward  Notting  Hill 
Gate  Station,  endeavoring  to  convince  himself  that  he  was 
not  perturbed,  and  yet  looking  somewhat  anxiously  at  the 
cabs  that  passed.  People  were  now  coming  out  from  their  busi- 
ness in  the  city  by  train  and  omnibus  and  hansom;  and 
they  seemed  to  be  hurrying  home  in  very  good  spirits,  as  if 
they  were  sure  of  the  welcome  awaiting  them  there.  Now 
and  again  you  would  see  a  meeting — some  demure  young 
person,  who  had  been  furtively  watching  the  railway  station, 
suddenly  showing  a  brightness  in  her  face  as  she  went  for- 
ward to  shake  hands  with  some  new  arrival,  and  then  trip- 
ping briskly  a.way  with  him,  her  hand  on  his  arm.  There 
were  men  carrying  home  fish  in  small  bags,  or  baskets  of 
fruit — presents  to  their  wives,  doubtless,  from  town.  Occa- 
sionally an  open  carriage  would  go  by,  containing  one  grave 
and  elderly  gentleman  and  a  group  of  small  girls — probably 
his  daughters,  who  had  gone  into  the  city  to  accompany 
their  papa  homeward.  Why  did  these  scenes  and  incidents, 
cheerful  in  themselves,  seem  to  him  somewhat  saddening  as 
hewalked  vaguely  on?  He  knew,  at  least,  that  there  was  little 
use  in  returning  home.  There  was  no  one  in  that  silent 
house  in  the  square.  The  rooms  would  b^  dark  in  the  twi- 
light. Probably  dinner  would  be  laid,  with  no  one  to  sit 
down  at  the  table.  He  wished  Sheila  had  left  word  where 
she  was  going. 

Then  he  bethought  himself  the  way  in  which  they  had 
parted,  and  of  the  sense  of  fear  that  had  struck  him  the 
moment  he  left  the  house,  that  after  all  he  had  been  too 
harsh  with  the  child.  Now,  at  least,  he  was  ready  to  apol- 
ogize to  her.  If  only  he  could  see  Sheila  coming  along  in 
one  of  those  hansoms — if  he  could  see,  at  any  distance,  the 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  3II 

figure  he  knew  so  well  walking  toward  him  on  the  pavement 
— would  he  not  instantly  confess  to  her  that  he  had  been 
wrong,  even  grievously  wrong,  and  beg  her  to  forgive  him  ? 
She  should  have  it  all  her  ov/n  way  about  going  up  to  Lewis, 
He  would  cast  aside  this  society  life  he  had  been  living,  and 
to  please  her  he  would  go  in  for  any  sort  of  work  or  amuse- 
ment of  which  she  approved.  He  was  so  anxious,  indeed,  to 
put  these  virtuous  resolutions  into  force  that  he  suddenly 
turned  and  walked  rapidly  back  to  the  house,  with  the  wild 
hope  that  Sheila  might  have  already  come  back. 

The  windows  were  dark,  the  curtains  were  yet  drawn,  and 
by  this  time  the  evening  had  come  on  and  the  lamps  in  the 
square  had  been  lit.  He  let  himself  into  the  house  by  his 
latch-key.  He  walked  into  all  the  rooms  and  up  to  Sheila's 
room;  everything  remained  as  he  had  left  it.  The  white 
cloth  glimmered  in  the  dusk  of  the  dining-room,  and  the  light 
of  the  lamp  outside  in  the  street  touched  here  and  there  the 
angles  of  the  crystal  and  showed  the  pale  colors  of  the 
glasses.  The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  ticked  in  the  silence. 
If  Sheila  had  been  lying  dead  in  that  small  room  up-stairs, 
the  house  could  not  have  appeared  more  silent  and  solemn. 

He  could  noL  bear  this  horrible  solitude.  He  called  one  of 
the  servants  and  left  a  message  for  Sheila,  if  she  came  in  in 
the  interval,  that  he  would  be  back  at  ten  o'clock:  then  he 
went  out,  got  into  a  hansom  and  drove  down  to  his  club  in 
St,  James'  Street, 

Most  of  the  men  were  dining:  the  other  rooms  were  almost 
deserted.  He  did  not  care  to  dine  just  then.  He  went  into 
the  library:  it  was  occupied  by  an  old  gentleman  who  was 
fast  asleep  in  an  easy-chair.  He  went  into  the  billiard- 
rooms,  in  the  vague  hope  that  some  exciting  game  might  be 
going  on:  there  was  not  a  soul  in  the  place,  tiie  gases  were 
down,  and  an  odor  of  stale  smoke  pervaded  the  dismal  cham- 
bers. Should  he  ;;;o  to  the  theatre  ?  His  sitting  there  woulc' 
be  a  mockery  while  this  vague  and  terrible  fear  was  present 
to  his  heart.  Or  go  down  to  see  Ingram,  a:  had  been  his 
wont  in  previous  hours  of  trouble?  He  dared  not  go  near 
Ingram  without  some  more  definite  news  about  Sheila.  In 
the  end  he  went  out  into  the  open  air,  as  if  he  were  in  dan- 
ger of  being  stifled,  and,  walking  indeterminately  on,  found 
himself  once  more  at  his  own  house. 

The  place  was  still  (}  lite  dark;  he  knew  befo'-e  entering 


312  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

that  Sheila  had  not  returned,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  be  sur- 
prised. It  was  now  long  after  their  ordinary  dinner  hour. 
Wlien  he  went  into  the  house  he  bade  the  servants  light  the 
gas  and  bring  up  dinner;  he  would  himself  sit  down  at  this 
solitary  table,  if  only  for  the  purpose  of  finding  occupation 
and  passing  this  terrible  time  of  suspense. 

It  never  occurred  to  him,  as  it  might  have  occurred  to  him 
at  one  time,  that  Sheila  had  made  some  blunder  somewhere 
and  been  unavoidably  detained.  He  did  not  think  of  any 
possible  repetition  of  her  adventures  in  Richmond  Park.  He 
was  too  conscious  of  the  probable  reason  of  Sheila's  remain- 
ing away  from  her  own  home;  and  yet  from  minute  to  min- 
ute he  fought  with  that  consciousness,  and  sought  to  prove  to 
himself  that,  after  all,  she  would  soon  be  heard  driving  up  to 
the  door.  He  ate  his  dinner  in  silence,  and  then  drew  a 
chair  up  to  the  fire  and  lit  a  cigar. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  driven  to  go  over  the 
events  that  had  occurred  since  his  marriage,  and  to  ask  him- 
self how  it  had  all  come  about  that  Sheila  and  he  were  not  as 
they  once  had  been.  He  recalled  the  early  days  of  their 
friendship  at  Borva;  the  beautiful  period  of  their  courtship; 
the  appearance  of  the  young  wife  in  London,  and  the  close 
relegation  of  Sheila  to  the  domestic  affairs  of  the  house,  while 
he  had  chosen  for  himself  other  companions,  other  interests, 
other  aims.  There  was  no  attempt  at  self-justification  in 
these  communings,  but  an  effort,  sincere  enough  in  its  way, 
to  understand  how  all  this  had  happened.  He  sat  and 
dreamed  there  before  the  warmth  of  the  fire,  with  the  slow 
and  monotonous  ticking  of  the  clock  unconsciously  acting  on 
his  brain.  In  time  the  silence,  the  warmth,  the  monotonous 
sound,  produced  their  natural  effects,  and  he  fell  fast  asleep. 

He  awoke  with  a  start.  The  small  silver-toned  bell  on  the 
mantelpiece  had  struck  the  hour  of  twelve.  He  looked 
around,  and  knew  that  the  evil  had  come  upon  him,  for 
Sheila  had  not  returned,  and  all  his  most  dreadful  fears  of 
that  evening  were  confirmed.  Sheila  had  gone  away  and  left 
him.     Whither  had  she  gone? 

Now  there  was  no  more  indecision  in  his  actions.  He  got 
his  hat,  plunged  into  the  cold  night  air,  and  finding  a  han- 
som, bade  the  man  drive  as  hard  as  he  could  go  down  to 
Sloane  Street.  There  was  a  light  in  Ingram's  windows,  which 
were  on  the  ground  floor;  he  tapped  with  his  stick  on  one  of 


A     PRINCESS    OF   THULE,  313 

che  panes — an  old  signal  that  had  been  in  constant  use  when 
he  and  Ingram  were  close  companions  and  friends.  Ingram 
came  to  the  door  and  opened  it;  the  light  of  a  lamp  glared 
in  on  his  face.  "  Halloo,  Lavender  !  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
surprise. 

The  other  could  not  speak,  but  he  went  into  the  house, 
and  Ingram,  shutting  the  door  and  following  him,  found  that 
the  man's  face  was  deadly  pale. 

"  Sheila — "  he  said,  and  stepped. 

"Well,  what  about  her?"  said  Ingram,  keeping  quite  calm, 
but  with  wild  fancies  about  some  terrible  accident  almost 
Stopping  the  p  jlsatiors  of  his  heart. 

"  Sheila  has  gone  away." 

Ingram  did  not  seem  to  understand. 

".Sheila  has  gone  away,  Ingram,"  said  Lavender,  in  an 
excited  way.  "You  don't  know  anything  about  it?  You 
don't  know  where  she  has  gone  ?  Waat  am  I  to  do,  Ingram? 
How  am  I  to  find  her  ?  Good  God!  don't  you  understand 
what  1  tell  you  ?  And  now  it  is  past  midnight,  and  my  poor 
girl  may  be  wandering  about  the  streets!" 

He  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  paying  almost  no 
attention,  in  his  excitement,  to  the  small,  sallow-faced  man 
who  stood  quite  quiet,  a  trille  afraid,  perhaps,  but  with  his 
heart  full  of  a  blaze  of  anger. 

"  She  has  gone  away  from  your  house?"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  What  made  her  do  that  ?" 

"I  did,''  said  Lavender,  in  a  hurried  way.  "I  have 
acted  like  a  brute  to  her — that  is  true  enough.  You  needn't 
say  anything  to  me,  Ingram;  I  feel  myself  far  more  guilty 
than  anything  you  could  say.  You  may  heap  reproaches 
on  me  afterward,  but  tell  me,  Ingram, what  am  I  to  do? 
You  know  what  a  proud  spirit  she  has;  who  can  tell  what 
she  might  do  ?  She  wouldn't  go  home — she  would  be  loo 
proud.     She  may  have  gone  and  drowned  herself." 

"  If  you  don't  control  yourself  and  tell  me  what  has  hap- 
pened, how  am  I  to  help  you?"  said  Ingram,  stiffly,  and 
yet  disposed  somehow — perhaps  for  the  sake  of  Sheila,  per- 
haps because  he  saw  that  the  young  man't  self-embarrassment 
and  distress  were  genuine  enough  not  to  be  too  rough 
with  him. 

"  Well,  you  know,  Mairi — "  said  Lavender,  still  walking 
up  and  dov/n  the  room  in   an  excited  way.     "  Sheila  had  got 


314  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE 

the  girl  up  here  without  telling  me;  some  friends  of  mine 
were  coming  home  to  luncheon;  we  had  some  disagreement 
about  Mairi  being  present,  and  then  Sheila  said  something 
about  not  remaining  in  the  house  if  Mairi  did  not;  something 
of  that  sort.  I  don't  know  what  it  was,  but  I  know  it  was  all 
my  fault,  and  if  she  has  been  driven  from  the  house  I  did  it; 
that  is  true  enough.  And  where  do  you  think  she  has  gone, 
Ingram?  If  I  could  only  see  her  for  three  minutes  I  would 
explain  everything;  I  would  tell  her  how  sorry  lam  for  every- 
thing that  has  happened,  and  she  would  see,  when  she  went 
back,  how  everything  would  be  right  again.  I  had  no  idea 
that  she  would  go  away.  It  was  mere  peevishness  that  made 
me  object  to  Mairi  meeting  those  people;  and  I  had  no  idea 
that  Sheila  would  take  it  so  much  to  heart.  Now  tell  me  what 
you  think  should  be  done,  Ingram.  All  I  want  is  to  see  her 
just  for  three  minutes  to  tell  her  it  was  all  a  mistake  and  that 
she  will  never  have  to  fear  anything  like  that  again," 

Ingram  heard  him  out,  and  said  with  some  precision,  "Do 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  fancy  all  this  trouble  is  to  he  got 
over  that  way  ?  Do  you  know  so  little  of  Sheila,  after  the 
time  you  have  been  married  to  her,  as  to  imagine  that  she 
has  taken  this  step  out  of  some  momentary  caprice,  and  that 
a  few  words  of  apology  and  promise  will  cause  her  to  rescind 
it?  You  must  be  crazed,  Lavender,  or  else  you  are  actually 
as  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  that  girl  as  you  were  up  in  the 
Highlands." 

The  young  man  seemed  to  calm  down  his  excitement  and 
impatience,  but  it  was  because  of  a  new  fear  that  had  struck 
him,  and  that  was  visible  in  his  face. 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  never  come  back,  Ingram  ?"  he 
said,  looking  aghast. 

"I  don't  know;  she  may  not.  At  all  events,  you  may  be 
quite  sure  that,  once  having  resolved  to  leave  your  house,  she 
is  not  to  be  pacified  and  cajoled  by  a  few  phrases  and  a  prom- 
ise of  repentance  on  your  part.  That  is  quite  sure.  And 
what  is  quite  as  sure,  is  this,  that  if  you  knew  just  now  where 
she  was,  the  most  foolish  thing  you  could  do  would  be  to  go 
and  see  her." 

"  But  I  must  go  and  see  her — I  must  find  her  out,  Ingram,  ' 
he  said,  passionately.  "I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me. 
If  she  won't  go  back  home,  so  much  the  worse  for  me;  but  I 
7f!i/sf  find  her  out,  and  know  that  she  is  safe.     Think  of  it, 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE,  315 

Ingram  !  Perhaps  she  is  walking  about  the  streets  some- 
where at  this  moment;  and  you  know  her  proud  spirit.  If 
she  were  to  go  near  the  river " 

'*  She  won't  go  near  the  river,"  said  Ingram,  quietly,  "and 
she  won't  be  walking  about  the  streets.  She  is  either  in  the 
Scotch  mail-train,  going  up  to  Glasgow,  or  else  she  has  got 
some  lodgings  somewhere,  along  v/ith  Mairi.  Has  she  any 
money  ?" 

"  No,^'  said  Lavender,  And  then  he  thought  for  a  minute. 
"There  was  some  money  her  father  gave  her  in  case  she 
might  want  it  at  a  pinch;  she  may  have  that — I  hope  she  has 
that.  I  was  to  have  given  her  money  to-morrow  morning. 
But  hadn't  I  better  go  to  the  police-stations,  and  see,  just 
by  way  of  precaution,  that  she  has  not  been  heard  of?  I 
may  as  well  do  that  as  nothing.  I  could  not  go  home  to 
that  empty  house — I  could  not  sleep." 

"  Sheila  is  a  sensible  girl:  she  is  safe  enough,"  said  Ingram. 
"And  if  you  don't  care  about  going  home,  you  may  as  well 
remain  here.  I  can  give  you  a  room  up-stairs  when  you 
want  it.  In  the  meantime,  if  you  will  pull  a  chair  to  the 
table  and  calm  yourself,  and  take  it  for  granted  that  you  will 
soon  be  assured  of  Shei  a's  safety,  I  M^ill  tell  you  what  I  think 
you  should  do.  Here  is  a  cigar  to  keep  you  occupied ;  there 
are  whiskey  and  cold  water  back  there  if  you  like.  You  will 
do  no  good  by  pun  shing  yourself  in  small  matters,  for  your 
trouble  is  likeiy  lo  be  serious  enough,  I  can  tell  you,  before 
you  get  Sheila  back,  if  ever  you  get  her  back.  Take  the 
chair  with  the  cushion." 

It  was  so  like  the  old  days  when  these  two  used  to  be  com- 
panions! Many  and  many  a  time  had  the  younger  man 
come  down  to  theic  lodgings,  with  all  his  troubles  and 
wild  impulses  and  pangs  of  contrition  ready  to  be  revealed. 
And  then  Ingram,  concealing  the  liking  he  had  for  the  lad's 
generous  waywardness,  his  brilliant  and  facile  cleverness 
and  his  dashes  of  honest  self  depreciation,  would  gravely 
lecture  him  and  put  him  right  and  send  him  off  comforted. 
Frank  Lavender  had  changed  much  since  then.  The 
handsome  boy  had  grown  into  a  man  of  the  world:  there 
was  less  self-revelations  in  his  manner,  and  he  was  less  sen- 
sitive to  the  opinions  and  criticisms  of  his  old  friend;  but 
Ingram,  who  was  not  prone  to  idealism  of  any  sort,  had 
never  ceased  to  believe  thax  this  change  was  but  superficial, 


3l6  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

and  that,  iii  different  circumstances  and  with  different  aims, 
Lavender  might  still  fulfill  the  best  promise  of  his  youth. 

"You  have  been  a  good  friend  to  me,  Ingram,"  he  said, 
with  a  hot  blush,  "  and  I  have  treated  you  as  badly  as  I 
have  treated — by  Jove!  what  a  chance  I  had  at  one  time!" 

He  was  looking  back  on  all  the  fair  pictures  his  imagi- 
nation had  drawn  while  yet  Sheila  and  he  were  wandering 
about  that  island  in  the  Northern  seas. 

"You  had,"  said  Ingram,  decisively.  "At  one  time  I 
thought  you  the  most  fortunate  man  in  the  world.  There 
was  nothing  left  for  you  to  desire,  so  far  as  I  could  see.  You 
were  young  and  strong,  with  plenty  of  good  spirits  and  suf- 
ficient ability  to  earn  yourself  an  honorable  living,  and  you 
had  won  the  love  of  the  most  beautiful  and  best-hearted 
woman  I  have  known.  You  never  seemed  to  me  to  know 
what  that  meant.  Men  marry  women — there  is  no  difficulty 
about  that — and  you  can  generally  get  an  amiable  sort  of 
person  to  become  your  wife  and  have  a  sort  of  affection  for 
you,  and  so  on.  But  how  many  have  bestowed  on  them  the 
pure  and  exalted  passion  of  a  young  and  innocent  girl,  who 
is  ready  to  worship  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  warmly  imagina- 
tive and  emotional  nature  the  man  she  has  chosen  to  love  ? 
And  suppose  he  is  young,  too,  and  capable  of  understanding 
all  the  tender  sentiments  of  a  high-spirited,  sensitive  and 
loyal  woman,  and  suppose  that  he  fancies  himself  as  much  in 
love  with  her  as  she  with  him?  These  conditions  are  not 
often  fulfilled,  I  can  tell  you.  It  is  a  happy  fluke  when  they 
are.  Many  a  day  ago  I  told  you  that  you  should  consider 
yourself  more  fortunate  than  if  you  had  been  made  an  em- 
peror; and  indeed  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  had  everything 
in  the  shape  of  worldly  happiness  easily  within  your  reach. 
How  you  came  to  kick  away  the  ball  from  your  feet — well, 
God  only  knows.  The  thing  is  inconceivable  to  me.  You 
are  sitting  here  as  you  used  to  sit  two  or  three  years  ago,  and 
in  the  interval  you  have  had  every  chance  in  life;  and  now. 
if  you  are  not  the  most  wretched  man  in  London,  you  ought 
at  least  to  be  the  most  ashamed  and  repentant." 

Lavender's  head  was  buried  in  his  hands  :  he  did  not 
speak. 

"  And  it  is  not  only  your  own  happiness  you  have  des- 
troyed. When  you  saw  that  girl  first  she  was  as  light-hearted 
and  contented  with  her  lot  as  any  human  being  could  be. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  317 

From  one  week's  end  to  the  other  not  the  slightest  care  dis- 
turbed her  mind.  And  then,  when  she  intrusted  her  whole 
life  to  you — when  she  staked  her  faith  in  human  nature  on 
you,  and  gave  you  all  the  treasures  of  hope  and  reverence 
and  love  that  lay  in  her  pure  and  innocent  soul — my  God  ! 
what  have  you  done  with  these?  It  is  not  that  you  have 
shamed  and  insulted  her  as  a  wife,  and  driven  her  out  of  her 
home — there  are  other  homes  than  yours  where  she  would  be 
welcome  a  thousand  times  over — but  you  have  destroyed  her 
belief  in  everything  she  had  taught  herself  to  trust,  you  have 
outraged  the  tenderest  sentiments  of  her  heart,  you  have 
killed  her  faith  as  well  as  ruined  her  life,  I  talk  plainly;  I 
cannot  do  otherwise.  If  I  help  you  now,  don't  imagine  I 
condone  v/hat  you  have  done;  I  would  cut  my  right  hand  off 
first.     For  Sheila's  sake  I  will  try  to  help  you." 

He  stopped  just  then,  however,  and  checked  the  indigna- 
tion that  had  got  the  better  of  his  ordinarily  restrained  man- 
ner and  curt  speech.  The  man  before  him  was  crying  bit- 
terly, his  face  hidden  in  his  hands. 

"  Look  here,  Lavender,"  he  said  presently,  "I  don't  want 
to  be  hard  on  you.  I  tell  you  plainly  what  I  think  of  youi 
conduct,  so  that  no  delusions  may  exist  between  us.  And  I 
will  say  this  for  you,  that  the  only  excuse  you  have  — '' 

"There  is  no  excuse,"  said  the  other,  sadly  enough.  "J 
have  no  excuse,  and  I  know  it." 

**  The  only  thing,  then,  you  can  say  in  mitigation  ot 
what  you  have  done  is  that  you  never  seem  to  have  under- 
stood the  girl  whom  you  married.  You  started  with  giving 
her  a  fancy  character  when  you  first  went  to  the  Lewis,  and 
unce  you  had  got  the  bit  in  your  teeth,  there  was  no  stopping 
you.  If  you  seek  now  to  get  Sheila  back  to  you,  the  best 
thing  you  can  do,  I  presume,  would  be  to  try  to  see  her  as 
she  is,  to  win  her  regard  that  way,  to  abandon  that  operatic 
business,  and  learn  to  know  her  as  a  thoroughly  good  woman, 
who  has  her  own  ways  and  notions  about  things,  and  who 
has  a  very  definite  character  underlying  that  extreme  gentle- 
ness which  she  fancies  to  be  one  of  her  duties.  The  child 
did  her  dead  best  to  accommodate  herself  to  your  idea  of 
her,  and  failed.  When  she  would  rather  have  been  living  a 
brisk  and  active  life  in  the  country  or  by  theseaside,  running 
wild  about  a  hillside,  or  reading  strange  stories  in  the  evening, 
or  nursing  some  fisherman's  child  that  had  got  ill,  you  had 


3l8  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

her  dragged  into  a  sort  of  society  with  which  she  had  no 
sympathy  whatever.  And  the  odd  thing  to  me  is  that  you 
yourselfseemed  to  be  making  an  effort  that  way.  You  did 
not  always  devote  yourself  to  fashionable  life.  Where  are 
all  the  old  ambicions  you  used  to  talk  about  in  the  very  chair 
you  are  now  sitting  in?  '' 

"  Is  there  any  hope  of  my  getting  Sheila  back?"  he  said, 
looking  up  at  last.  There  was  a  vague  and  bewildered  look 
in  his  eyes.  He  seemed  incapable  of  thinking  of  anything 
but  that. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ingram.  "But  one  thing  is  certain: 
you  will  never  get  her  back  to  repeat  the  experiment  that  has 
just  ended  in  this  desperate  way." 

"I  should  not  ask  that,"  he  said,  hurriedly;  "I  should 
not  ask  that  at  all.  If  I  could  but  see  her  for  a  moment,  I 
would  ask  her  to  tell  me  everything  she  wanted,  everything 
she  demanded  as  conditions,  and  I  would  obey  her.  I  will 
promise  to  do  everything  that  she  wishes." 

**  If  you  saw  her  you  could  give  her  nothing  but  promises,'' 
said  Ingram.  "  Now,  what  if  you  were  to  try  to  do  what  you 
know  she  wishes,  and  then  go  to  her?" 

"  You  mean — "  said  Lavender,  glancing  up  with  another 
startled  look  on  his  face.  *'  You  don't  mean  that  I  am  to  re- 
main away  from  her  a  long  time — go  into  banishment,  as  it 
were — and  then  some  day  comr^  back  to  Sheila  and  beg  her 
to  forget  all  that  happened  long  before  ?" 

"I  mean  somcthir.g  very  like  that,"  said  Ingram,  with 
composure.  "I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  successful.  I 
have  no  means  of  ascertaining  what  Sheila  would  think  of 
such  a  project — whether  she  would  think  that  she  could  ever 
live  with  you  again.'' 

Lavender  seemed  fairly  stunned  by  the  possibility  of 
Sheila's  resolving  never  to  see  him  again,  and  began  to  recall 
what  Ingram  had  many  a  time  said  about  the  strength  of  pur- 
pose she  could  show  whe  i  occasion  needed. 

"  If  her  faith  in  you  is  wholly  destroyed,  your  case  is  hope- 
less. A  woman  may  cling  to  her  belief  in  a  man  through 
good  report  and  evil  report,  but  if  she  once  loses  it,  she 
never  recovers  it.  But  there  is  this  hope  for  you  :  I  know 
very  well  that  Sheila  had  a  much  more  accurate  notion  of 
you  than  you  ever  had  of  her;  and  I  happen  to  know,  also, 
that  at  the  very  time  when  you  were  most  deeply  distressing 


A   PRIWCESS   OF   THULE.  3I9 

her  here  in  London,  she  held  the  firm  conviction  that  your 
conduct  toward  her — your  habits,  your  very  self — would 
alter  if  you  could  only  be  persuaded  to  get  out  of  the  life 
.you  have  been  leading.  That  was  true,  at  least  up  to  the 
time  of  your  leaving  Brighton.  She  believed  in  you  then. 
She  believed  that  if  you  were  to  cut  society  altogether,  and 
go  and  live  a  hardworking  life  somewhere,  a-ou  would  soon 
become  once  more  the  man  she  fell  in  love  with  up  in 
Lewis.  Perhaps  she  was  mistaken:  I  don't  say  anytliing 
about  it  myself." 

The  terribly  cool  way  in  which  Ingram  talked — separating, 
defining,  exhibiting,  so  that  he  and  his  companion  should 
get  as  near  as  possible  to  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth  of 
the  situation — was  oddly  in  contrast  with  the  blind  and  pas- 
sionate yearning  of  the  other  for  some  glimpse  of  hope.  His 
whole  nature  seemed  to  go  out  in  a  cry  to  Sheila  that  she 
would  come  back  and  give  him  a  chance  of  atoning  for  the 
past.  At  length  he  rose.  He  looked  strangely  haggard,  and 
his  eyes  scarcely  seemed  to  see  the  things  arouri  d  him.  *'  I 
must  go  home,"  he  said. 

Ingram  saw  that  he  merely  wanted  to  get  outside  and  walk 
about  in  order  to  find  some  relief  from  this  anxiety  and  un- 
rest, and  said:  "  You  ought,  I  think,  to  stop  here  and  go  to 
bed.  But  if  you  would  rather  go  home,  I  will  walk  up  with 
you,  if  you  like." 

When  the  two  men  went  out  tne  night  air  smelt  sweet  and 
moist,  for  rain  had  fallen,  and  the  city  trees  were  still  drip- 
ping with  the  wet,  and  rustling  in  the  wind.  The  weather  had 
changed  suddenly,  and  now,  in  the  deep  blue  overhead,  they 
knew  the  clouds  were  passing  swiftly  by.  Was  it  the  coming 
light  of  the  morning  that  seemed  to  give  depth  and  richness 
to  that  dark-blue  vault,  while  the  pavements  of  the  streets  and 
the  houses  grew  vaguely  distinct  and  gray  ?  Suddenly,  in 
turning  the  corner  into  Piccadilly,  they  saw  the  moon  appear 
in  a  rift  of  those  passing  clouds,  but  it  was  not  the  moon- 
light that  shed  this  pale  and  wan  grayness  down  the  lonely 
streets.  It  is  just  at  this  moment,  when  the  dawn  of  the  new 
day  begins  to  tell,  that  a  great  city  seems  at  its  deadest;  and 
in  the  profound  silence  and  amid  the  strange  transformations 
of  the  cold  and  growing  light  a  man  is  thrown  in  upon  him- 
self, and  holds  communion  with  himself,  as  though  he 
and    his    own    thoughts    were    all    that    was   left    in    the 


320  A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

world.  Not  a  word  passed  between  the  two  men,  and 
Lavender,  keenly  sensitive  to  all  such  impressions,  and  now 
and  again  shivering  slightly,  either  from  cold  or  nervous  ex- 
citement, walked  blindly  along  the  deserted  streets,  seeing, 
far  other  things  than  the  tall  houses  and  the  drooping  trees 
and  the  growing  light  of  the  sky. 

It  seemed  to  him  at  this  moment  that  he  was  looking  at 
Sheila's  funeral.  There  was  a  great  stillness  in  that  small 
house  at  Borvapost,  There  was  a  boat — Sheila's  own  boat — 
down  at  the  shore  there,  and  there  were  two  or  three  figures 
in  black  in  it.  The  day  was  gray  and  rainy ;  the  sea  washed 
along  the  melancholy  shores;  the  far  hills  were  hidden  in 
mist.  And  now  he  saw  some  people  come  out  of  the  house 
into  the  rain,  and  the  bronze  and  bearded  men  had  oars 
with  them,  and  on  the  crossed  oars  there  was  a  coffin  placed. 
They  went  down  the  hillside.  They  put  the  coffin  in  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  and  in  absolute  silence,  except  for  the 
wailing  of  the  women,  they  pulled  away  down  the  dreary 
Loch  Roag  till  they  came  to  the  island  where  the  burial 
ground  is.  They  carried  the  coffin  up  to  that  small  enclo- 
sure, with  its  rank  grass  growing  green  and  the  rain  falling  on 
the  rude  stones  and  memorials.  How  often  had  he  leaned 
on  that  low  stone  wall,  and  read  the  strange  inscriptions  in 
various  tongues  over  the  graves  of  mariners  from  distant  coun- 
tries who  had  met  with  their  death  on  this  rocky  coast  ?  Had 
not  Sheila  herself  pointed  out  to  him,  with  a  sad  air,  how 
many  of  these  memorials  bore  the  words,  "who  was 
drowned;"  and  that,  too,  was  the  burden  of  the  rudely  spelt 
legends  beginning  "Heir  rutt  inGott,"  or  "Her  under  hviler 
stovit,"  and  sometimes  ending  with  the  pathetic  "Wunder- 
schen  ist  unsre  Hoffnung."  The  fishermen  brought  the  coffin 
to  the  newly-made  grave,  the  women  standing  back  a  bit, 
old  Scarlett  Macdonald  stroking  Mairi's  hair,  and  bidding 
the  girl  control  her  frantic  grief,  though  the  old  woman  her- 
self could  hardly  speak  for  her  tears  and  lamentations.  He 
could  read  the  words  "  Sheila  Mackenzie  "  on  the  small  sil- 
ver plate;  she  had  been  taken  away  from  all  association  with 
him  and  his  name.  And  who  was  this  old  man  with  the 
white  hair  and  the  white  beard,  whose  hands  were  tightly 
clenched,  and  his  lips  firm,  and  a  look  as  of  death  in  the 
sunken  and  wild  eyes  ?     Mackenzie  was  gray  a  year  before — 

"Ingram,"  he  said,  suddenly,  and  his  voice  startled  his 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  32 1 

companion,    "do  you  think  it  is  possible   to   make  Sheha 
happy  again  ?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?"  said  Ingram. 

"You  used  to  know  everything  she  could  wish — every- 
thing she  was  thinking  about.  If  you  find  her  out  now, 
will  you  get  to  know?  Will  you  sec  what  I  can  do — 
not  by  asking  her  to  come  back,  not  by  trying  to  get  bajK. ' 
my  own  happiness,  but  anything,  it  does  not  matter  what 
it  is,  I  can  do  for  her  ?  If  she  would  rather  not  sec  me 
again,  I  will  stay  away.     Will  you  ask  her,  Ingram  ?" 

"We  have  got  to  find  her  1,    i,"  said  his  conapanion. 

"A  young  girl  like  that,"  said  Lavender,  taking  no  heed 
of  the  objection,  "surely  she  cannot  always  be  unhappy. 
She  is  so  young  and  beautiful,  and  takes  so  much  interest 
in  many  things;  surely  she  may  have  a  happy  life." 

"She  might  have  had." 

"  I  don't  mean  with  me,''  said  Lavender,  with  his  haggard 
face  looking  still  more  haggard  in  the  increasing  light.  "I 
mean  anything  that  can  be  done — any  way  of  life  that  will 
make  her  comfortable  and  contented  again — anything  that  I 
can  do  for  that.     Will  you  try  to  find  it  out,  Jagram?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will,"  said  the  other,  who  had  been  thinking 
with  much  foreboding  of  all  those  possibilities  ever  since 
they  left  Sloane  Street,  his  only  gleam  of  hope  being  a  con- 
sciousness that  this  time  at  least  there  cwu.a  be  no  doubt  of 
Frank  Lavender's  absolute  sincerity,  of  his  remorse,  and  his 
almost  morbid  craving  to  make  reparation  if  that  were 
still  possible. 

They  reached  the  house  at  last.  There  was  a  dim  orange- 
colored  light  shining  in  the  passage.  Lavender  went  on  and 
threw  operi  the  door  of  the  small  room  which  Sheila  had 
adorned,  asking  Ingram  to  follow  him.  How  wild  and 
strange  this  chamber  looked,  with  the  wan  glare  of  the  dawn 
shining  on  its  barbaric  decorations  from  the  sea-coast — on 
the  shells  and  skins  and  feathers  that  Sheila  had  placed 
around  !  That  white  light  of  the  morning  was  now  shining 
everywhere  into  the  silent  and  desolate  house.  Lavender 
found  Ingram  a  bedroom,  and  then  he  turned  away,  not 
knowing  what  to  do.  He  looked  into  Sheila's  room;  there 
were  dresses,  bits  of  finery,  and  what  not,  that  he  knew  so 
well,  but  there  was  no  light  breathing  audible  in  the  silent 
and   empty  chamber.     He   shut  the   door  as  reverently  as 


32  2  A   PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

though  he  were  shutting  it  on  the  dead,  and  went  down- 
stairs  and  threw  himself,  almost  fainting  with  despair  and 
fatigue  on  the  sofa,  while  the  world  outside  awoke  to  a  new 
day  with  all  its  countless  and  joyous  activities  and  duties. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A    SURPRISE. 

There  was  no  letter  from  Sheila  in  the  morning;  and  Lav- 
ender, as  soon  as  the  post  had  come  and  gone,  went  up  to 
Ingram's  room  and  woke  him.  "  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you, 
Ingram,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  going  to  Lewis.  I  shall  catch 
the  train  to  Glasgow  at  ten." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  to  go  to  Lewis  for  ?"  said  Ingram, 
starting  up.  "  Do  you  think  Sheila  would  go  straight  back 
to  her  own  people  with  all  this  humiliation  upon  her  ?  And 
supposing  she  is  not  there,  how  do  you  propose  to  meet  old 
Mackenzie  ?" 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  meeting  any  man,"  said  Lavender, 
"  I  want  to  know  where  Sheila  is.  And  if  I  see  Mackenzie 
I  can  only  tell  him  frankly  everything  that  has  happened.  He 
is  not  likely  to  say  anything  of  me  half  as  bad  as  what  I  think 
of  myself." 

"  Now  listen,"  said  Ingram,  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  his 
brown  beard  and  grayish  hair  in  a  considerably  disheveled 
condition.  "  Sheila  may  have  gone  home,  but  it  isn't  likely. 
If  she  has  not,  your  taking  the  story  up  there  and  spreading 
it  abroad  would  prepare  a  great  deal  of  pain  for  her  when 
she  might  come  back  at  some  future  time.  But  suppose  you 
want  to  make  sure  that  she  has  not  gone  to  her  father's 
house.  She  could  not  have  got  down  to  Glasgow  sooner 
than  this  morning  by  last  night's  train,  you  know.  It  is  to- 
morrow morning,  not  this  morning,  that  the  Stornoway 
steamer  starts;  and  she  would  be  certain  to  go  direct  to  it  at 
the  Glasgow  Broomielaw.  and  go  around  the  Mull  of  Cantyre, 
instead  of  catching  it  up  at  Oban,  because  she  knows  the 
people  in  the  boat,  and  she  and  Mairi  would  be  among 
friends.  If  you  really  want  to  know  whether  she  has  gone 
North,  perhaps  you  could  do  no  better  than  run  down  to 
Glasgow  to-day,  and  have  a  look  at  the  boat  that  starts  to- 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  323 

morrow  morning.     I  would  go  with  you  myself,  but  I  can't 
escape  the  office  to  da3\" 

Lavender  agreed  to  do  this,  and  was  about  to  go.  But  be- 
fore he  bade  his  friend  good-bye  he  lingered  for  a  second  or 
two  in  a  hesitating  way,  and  then  he  said:  "Ingram,  you 
were  sp^-aking  the  other  night  of  your  going  up  to  Borva.  If 
you  should  go — " 

"  Of  course  I  shan't  go,"  said  the  other,  promptly.  *'  How 
could  I  face  Mackenzie  when  he  began  to  ask  me  about 
Sheila?  No,  I  cannot  go  to  Borva  while  this  affair  remains 
in  its  present  condition;  and,  indeed.  Lavender,  I  mean  to 
stop  in  London  till  I  see  you  out  of  your  trouble  somehow." 

"  You  are  heapmg  coals  of  fire  on  my  head." 

"  Oh,  don't  look  at  it  that  way.  If  I  can  be  of  any  help 
to  you,  I  shall  expect,  this  time,  to  have  a  return  for  it.'' 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

*'  I  will  tell  you  when  we  get  to  know  something  of  Shei- 
la's intentions." 

And  so  Frank  Lavender  found  himself  once  more,  as  in 
the  old  times,  in  the  Euston  Station,  with  the  Scotch  mail 
ready  to  start,  and  all  manner  of  folks  bustling  about  with 
that  unnecessary  activity  which  betokens  the  excitement  of 
a  holiday.  What  a  strange  holiday  was  his!  He  got  into  a 
smoking-carriage  in  order  to  be  alone,  and  he  looked  out  on 
the  people  who  were  bidding  their  friends  good-bye.  Some 
of  them  were  not  very  pretty,  many  of  them  were  ordinary, 
insignificant,  commonplace  looking  folks,  but  it  was  clear 
that  they  had  those  about  them  who  loved  them  and  thought 
much  of  them.  There  was  one  man  whom,  in  other  cir- 
cumstances. Lavender  would  have  dismissed  with  contempt 
as  an  excellent  specimen  of  the  unmitigated  cad.  He  wore 
a  white  waistcoat,  put  pie  gloves,  and  a  green  sailor's  knot  with 
a  diamond  in  it,  and  tnere  was  a  cheery,  vacuous  smiling  ex- 
pression on  his  round  face  as  he  industriously  smoked  a 
ctieroot  and  made  small  jokes  to  the  friends  who  had  come 
to  see  him  off.  One  of  them  was  a  young  woman,  not  very 
good-looking,  perhaps,  who  did  not  join  in  the  general 
hilarity,  and  it  occurred  to  Lavender  that  the  jovial  man 
with  the  cheroot  was,  perhaps,  cracking  his  little  jokes 
to  keep  up  her  spirits.  At  all  events  he  called  her  "  my  good 
lass,"  from  time  to  time,  and  patted  her  on  the  shoulder,  and 
WJ.3  very  kind  to  her.     And  when  the  guard  came  up  and 


324  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

bade  everybody  get  in,  the  man  kissed  the  girl  and  shook 
hands  with  her  and  bade  her  good-bye;  and  then  she, 
moved  by  some  sudden  impulse,  caught  his  face  in  both  her 
hands  and  kissed  him  once  on  each  cheek.  It  was  a  ridiculous 
scene.  People  who  wear  green  ties  with  diamond  pins  care 
nothing  for  decorum.  And  yet  Lavender,  when  he  averted 
his  eyes  from  this  parting,  could  not  help  recalling  what 
Ingram  had  been  saying  the  night  before,  and  wondereu 
whether  this  outrageous  person  with  his  abominable  decora- 
lions  and  his  genial  grin  might  not  be  more  fortunate  than 
many  a  great  statesman  or  warrior  or  monarch. 

He  turned  around  to  find  the  cad  beside  him;  and  pres- 
ently the  man,  with  an  abounding  good-nature,  began  to 
converse  with  him,  and  explained  that  it  was  'igh  'oliday 
with  him,  for  that  he  had  got  a  pass  to  travel  first  class  as  far 
as  Carlisle.  He  hoped  they  would  have  a  jolly  time  of  it  to- 
gether. He  explained  the  object  of  his  journey  in  the  frank- 
est possible  fashion,  made  a  kindly  little  joke  upon  the  hard- 
ship of  parting  with  one's  sweetheart,  said  that  a  faint  heart 
never  won  fair  lady,  and  that  it  was  no  good  crying  over  spilt 
milk.  She  would  be  all  right,  and  precious  glad  to  see  him 
when  he  came  back  in  three  weeks'  time,  and  he  meant  to 
bring  her  a  present  that  would  be  good  for  sore  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  you're  a  married  man,  sir,  and  got  past  all  them 
games?"  said  the  cad.  cheerily. 

"  Yes,  I  am  married,"  said  Lavender,  coldly. 

"  And  you're  going  further  than  Carlisle,  you  say,  sir  ? 
I'll  be  sworn  the  good  lady  is  up  somewhere  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  she  w^on't  be  disappointed  when  she  sees  you — oh, 
no!     Scotch,  sir?" 

"  I  am  not  Scotch,"  said  Lavender,  curtly. 

"  And  she  ?" 

Should  he  have  to  throw  the  man  out  of  the  window  ? 
"  Yes." 

"  The  Scotch  are  a  strange  race — very,"  said  the  genial 
person,  producing  a  brandy  flask.  "  They  drink  a  trifle, 
don't  they?  and  yet  they  keep  their  wits  about  them  if  you've 
dealings  with  them.  A  very  strange  race  of  people,  in  my 
opinion — very.  Know  the  story  of  the  master  who  fancied 
liis  man  was  drilnk  ?  '  Donald,  you're  trunk,'  says  he.  '  It's 
a  lam  lee,'  says  Donald.  *  Donald,  ye  ken  ye're  trunk,'  says 
the  master.  '  Ah  ken  ah  wish  to  Kott  ah  was!'  says  Donald. 
Good  story,  ain't  it,  sjr  ?" 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  ^2^ 

Lavender  had  heard  the  remarkable  old  joke  a  hundred 
times,  but  just  at  this  moment  there  was  something  odd  in 
this  vulgar  person  suddenly  imitating,  and  imitating  very 
well,  the  Highland  accent.  Had  he  been  way  up  in  the 
North?  or  had  he  merely  heard  the  story  related  by  one 
who  had  been  ?  Lavender  dared  not  ask,  however,  for  fear 
of  prolonging  a  conversation  in  which  he  had  no  wish  to 
j  )in.  Indeed,  to  get  rid  of  the  man,  he  shoved  a  whole  bun- 
dle of  the  morning  papers  into  his  hand. 

"What's  your  opinion  of  politics  at  present,  sir?"  ob- 
served his  friend,  in  an  off-hand  way. 

"  I  haven't  any,"  said  Lavender,  compelled  to  take  back 
one  of  the  newspapers  and  open  it. 

"  I  think  myself  they're  in  a  bad  state;  that's  my  opinion. 
There  ain't  a  man  among  them  that  knows  how  to  keep 
down  those  people;  that's  my  opinion,  sir.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Lavender.  "  You'll  find  a 
good  article  in  that  paper  on  University  Tests." 

The  cheery  person  looked  rather  blank. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  your  opinion  about  'em,  sir,"  he 
said.  "  It  ain't  much  good  reading  only  one  side  of  a  ques- 
tion; but  when  you  can  talk  about  and  discuss  it,  now  — " 

"  I  am  sorry  I  can't  oblige  you,"  said  Lavender,  goaded 
into  making  some  desperate  effort  to  release  himself.  "I  am 
suffering  from  a  relaxed  throat  at  present.  My  doctor  has 
warned  me  against  talking  too  much." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  You  don't  seem  very  well;  per- 
haps the  throat  comes  uith  a  little  feverishness,  you  see — a 
cold,  in  fact.  Now  if  I  was  you  I  would  try  tannin  lozenges 
for  the  throat.  They're  uncommon  good  for  the  throat;  and 
a  little  quinine  for  the  general  system — that  would  put  you 
as  right  as  a  fiver.  I  tried  it  myself  when  1  was  down  in  'Amp- 
shire  last  year.  And  you  wouldn't  find  a  drop  of  this  brandy 
a  bad  thing,  either,  if  you  don't  mind  rowing  in  tlie  same 
boat  as  myself/' 

Lavender  declined  the  proffered  flask,  and  subsided  behind 
a  newspaper.  His  fellow-traveler  lit  another  cheroot,  took 
up  Bradshaw,  and  settled  himself  in  a  corner. 

Had  Sheila  come  up  this  very  line  some  dozen  hours 
before?  Lavenderasked  himself  as  he  looked  out  on  the  hills 
and  valleys  and  woods  of  Buckinghamshire,     Had  the  throb- 


3^6  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

bing  of  the  engine  and  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  kept  the 
piteous  eyes  awake  all  through  the  dark  night,  until  the  pale 
dawn  showed  the  girl  a  wild  vision  of  Northern  hills  and  moors 
telling  her  she  was  getting  nearer  to  her  own  country?  Not 
thus  had  Sheila  proposed  to  herself  to  return  home  on  the 
first  holiday  time  that  should  occur  to  them  both.  He  began 
to  think  of  his  present  journey  as  it  might  have  been  in  other 
circumstances.  Would  she  have  remembered  any  of  those 
pretty  villages  which  she  saw  one  early  morning  long  ago, 
when  they  were  bathed  in  sunshine  and  scarcely  awake  to 
the  new  day.  Would  she  be  impatient  at  the  delays  at  the 
Btations,  and  anxious  to  hurry  on  to  Westmoreland  and 
Dumfries,  to  Glasgow  and  Oban  and  Skye,  and  then  from 
Stornoway  across  the  island  to  the  little  inn  at  Garra-na-hina  ? 

Here,  as  he  looked  out  of  the  window,  the  first  indication 
of  the  wilder  country  became  visible  in  the  distant  Berk- 
shire hills.  Close  at  hand  the  country  lay  green  and  bright 
under  a  brilliant  sun,  but  over  there  in  the  East  some  heavy 
clouds  darkened  the  landscape,  and  the  far  hills  seemed  to 
be  placed  amid  a  gloomy  stretch  of  moorland.  Would  not 
Sheila  have  been  thrilled  by  this  glimpse  of  the  coming 
North  ?  She  vi^ould  have  finc'ed  th- 1  greater  mountains  lay 
far  behind  these  rounded  slopes  hidden  in  mist.  She  would 
have  imagined  that  no  human  habitations  were  near  those 
rising  plains  of  sombre  hue,  where  the  red  deer  and  the 
fox  ought  to  dwell.  And  in  her  delight  at  getting  away 
from  the  fancied  brighmess  of  the  South,  would  she  not 
have  been  exceptionally  grateful  and  affectionate  toward 
himself,  and  striven  to  please  him  with  her  tender  ways  ? 

It  was  not  a  cheerful  journey,  this  lonely  trip  to  the  North. 
Lavender  got  to  Glasgow  that  night,  and  next  morning  he 
went  down,  long  before  any  passengers  could  have  thought 
of  arriving,  to  tne  Clansman.  He  did  not  go  near  the  big 
steamer,  for  he  was  known  to  the  captani  and  the  steward; 
but  he  hung  about  the  quays,  watching  each  person  who  went 
on  board.  Sheila  certainly  was  not  among  the  passengers  by 
the  Clansman. 

But  she  might  have  gone  to  Greenock  and  waited  for 
the  steamer  there.  Accordingly,  after  the  Clansman  had 
s  arted  on  her  voyage,  he  went  into  a  neighboring  hotel 
and  had  some  breakfast,  after  which  he  crossed  the  bridge 
to  the  station  and  took  rail  for   Greenock,  where  he  arrivfj 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  327 

some  time  before  the  Clansman  made  her  appearance.  He 
went  down  to  the  quay.  It  was  yet  early  morning,  and  a 
cool  fresh  breeze  was  blowing  in  across  the  broad  waters 
of  the  Frith,  where  the  sunlight  was  shining  on  the  white 
sails  of  the  yachts  and  on  the  dippin<  and  screaming  sea-gulls. 
Far  away  beyond  the  pale  blue  mountains  opposite,  lay  the 
wonderful  network  of  sea-loch  and  island  through  which 
one  had  to  piss  to  get  to  the  distant  Lewis.  How  gladly  at  this 
moment  would  he  have  stepped  on  board  the  steamer  with 
Sheila,  and  put  out  on  that  gleaming  plain  of  sea,  knowing 
that  by  and  by  they  would  sail  into  Scornoway  harbor  and 
find  the  wagonette  there.  They  would  not  hasten  the  voy- 
age. She  had  never  been  around  the  Mull  of  Cantyre,  and 
so  he  would  sit  by  her  side  and  show  her  the  wild  tides  meet- 
ing there,  and  the  lon<jtjet3  of  white  foam  shooting  up  the 
great  wall  of  rock.  He  would  show  her  the  coast  of  Ire- 
land; and  then  they  would  see  Islay,  of  which  she  had  many 
a  ballad  and  story.  They  would  go  through  the  narrow 
sound  that  is  overlooked  by  the  gloomy  mountains  of 
Jura.  They  would  see  the  distant  islands,  where  the  chief 
of  Colonsay  is  still  mourned  f «  r  on  the  still  evenings  by 
the  hapless  mermaiden,  who  sings  her  wild  song  across  the 
sea.  They  would  keep  wide  of  the  dangerous  currents  of 
Corryvreckan,  and  by  and  by  they  would  sail  into  the  harbor 
of  Oban,  the  beautiful  sea-town  where  Sheila  first  got  a 
notion  of  the  greatness  of  the  world  lying  outside  of  her 
native  island. 

What  if  she  were  to  come  down  now  from  this  busy  little 
seaport,  which  lay  under  a  pale  blue  smoke,  and  come  out 
upon  this  pier  to  meet  the  free  sunlight  and  the  fresh  sea-air 
blowing  all  about?  Surely  at  a  great  distance  he  could  rec- 
ognize the  proud,  light  step,  and  the  proud,  sad  face.  Would 
she  speak  to  him,  or  go  past  him,  with  firm  lips  and  piteous 
eyes,  to  wait  for  the  great  steamer  that  was  now  coming  along 
out  of  the  Eastern  mist.  Lavender  glanced  vaguely  around 
the  quays  and  the  thoroughfares  leading  to  them,  but  there 
was  no  one  like  Sheila  there.  In  the  distance  he  could  hear 
the  throbbing  of  the  Clansman's  engines  as  the  big  steamer 
came  on  through  the  white  plain.  The  sun  was  warmer  now 
on  the  bright  waters  of  the  Frith,  and  the  distant  haze  over 
the  pale  blue  mountains  beyond  had  grown  more  luminous. 
Small  boats  went  by,  and  here  and  th^re  a  yachtsman,  scar- 


32?  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

let-capped  and  in  white  costume,  was  taking  a  leisurely 
breakfast  on  his  deck.  The  sea-gulls  circled  about,  or  dipped 
down  on  the  waters,  or  chased  each  other  with  screams  and 
cries.  Then  the  Clansman  sailed  into  the  qaay,  and  there 
was  a  flinging  of  ropes  and  general  hurry  and  bustle,  while 
people  came  crowding  around  the  gangways,  calling  out  to 
each  other  in  every  variety  of  dialect  and  accent. 

Sheila  was  not  there.  He  lingered  about,  and  patiently 
waiced  for  the  starting  of  the  steamer,  not  knowing  how  long 
she  ordinarily  remained  in  Greenock.  He  was  in  no  hurry, 
indeed,  for  after  the  vessel  had  gone  he  found  himself  witha 
whole  day  before  him,  and  with  no  fixed  notion  a?  to  how  it 
could  be  passed.  In  other  circumstances  he  would  have  been 
in  no  difficulty  as  to  the  spending  of  a  bright  forenoon  and 
afternoon  by  the  side  of  the  sea.  Or  he  could  have  run 
through  to  Edinburgh  and  called  on  someartist  friends  there. 
Or  he  could  have  crossed  the  Frith  and  had  a  day's  ramble 
among  the  mountains.  Bat  now  that  he  was  satisfied  that 
Sheila  had  not  gone  home,  all  his  fancies  and  hopes  went 
back  to  London;  she  was  in  London.  And  while  he  was 
glad  that  she  had  not  gone  straight  to  her  own  people  with  a 
revelation  of  her  wrongs,  he  scarcely  dared  speculate  on  what 
adventures  and  experiences  might  have  befallen  those  two 
girls  turned  out  into  a  great  city,  of  which  they  were  about 
equally  ignorant. 

The  day  passed  somehow,  and  at  night  he  was  on  his  way 
to  London.  Next  morning  he  went  down  to  V/hitehall 
and  saw  Ingram. 

"  Sheila  has  not  gone  back  to  the  Highlands,  so  far  as 
I  can  make  out,"  he  said, 

"  So  much  the  better,"  was  the  answer. 

''What  am  I  to  do?  She  must  be  in  London,  and  who 
knows  what  may  befall  her  ?" 

"1  cannot  tell  you  what  you  should  do.  Of  course  you 
would  like  to  know  where  she  ii;  and  I  fancy  she  would 
have  no  objection  herself  to  letting  you  know  that  she  was  all 
right,  so  long  as  she  knew  that  you  would  not  go  near  he-. 
I  don't  think  she  has  taken  so  decided  a  step  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  being  coaxed  back  again.  That  is  not 
Sheila's  way," 

'•'  I  won't  go  near  her,"  he  said  ;  "I  only  want  to  know- 
that  she  is  safe  and  well.     I  will  do  whatever   she   likes,  but 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  329 

I  must  know  where   she  is,  and   that   she   has   come   to  no 
harm." 

"  Well,"  said  Ingram,  slowly,  "  I  was  talking  the  matter 
over  with  Mrs,  Lorraine  last  night — " 

"Does  she  know?"  said  Lavender,  wincing  somewhat. 

<' Certainly,"  Ingram  answered,  "I  did  not  tell  her,  I 
had  promised  to  go  up  there  about  something  quite  different, 
when  she  immediately  began  to  tell  me  the  news.  Of  course 
it  was  impossible  to  conceal  such  a  thing.  Don't  all  the 
servants  about  know?'' 

"I  don't  care  who  knows,"  said  Lavender,  moodily. 
*'  What  does  Mrs,  Lorraine  say  about  this  affair  ?" 

**  Mrs.  Lorraine  says  that  it  serves  you  right,"  said  In- 
gram, bluntly. 

"  Thank  her  very  much!  I  like  candor,  especially  in  a 
fair  weather  friend." 

"  Mrs.  Lorraine  is  a  better  friend  to  you  than  you  imag- 
ine," Ingram  said,  taking  no  notice  of  the  sneer.  "  When 
she  thought  that  your  going  to  their  house  continually  was  an- 
noying Sheila,  she  tried  to  put  a  stop  to  it  for  Sheila's  sake. 
And  now,  at  this  very  moment,  she  is  doing  her  very  best  to 
find  out  where  Sheila  is;  and  if  she  succeeds  she  means  to 
go  and  plead  your  cause  with  the  girl." 

"  I  will  not  have  her  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Laven- 
der, fiercely.  "I  will  plead  my  own  cause  with  Sheila.  I 
will  have  forgiveness  from  Sheila  herself  alone — not  brought 
to  me  by  any  intermeddling  woman." 

"You  needn't  call  names,"  said  Ingram,  coolly.  "But  I 
confess  I  think  you  are  right;  and  I  told  Mrs.  Lorraine  that 
was  what  you  would  doubtless  say.  In  any  case  she  can  do 
no  harm  in  trying  to  find  out  where  Sheila  is." 

"And  how  does  she  propose  to  succeed?  PoUaky,  the 
'Agony'  column,  placards,  or  a  bellman?  I  tell  you. 
Ingram,  I  won't  have  that  woman  meddle  in  my  affairs — 
coming  forward  as  a  Sister  of  Mercy  to  heal  the  wounded, 
bestowing  mock  compassion,  and  laughing  all  the  time.'' 

"  Lavender,  you  are  beside  yourself.  Tnat  woman  is  one 
of  the  most  good-natured,  shrewd,  clever,  and  amiable 
women  I  have  ever  met.     What  has  enraged  you?" 

"Bah!  She's  got  hold  of  you,  too,  has  she?  I  tell  you 
she  is  a  rank  impostor." 

"An  impostor  !"  said  Ingram,   slowly.     "  I  have  lieard  a 


330  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

good  many  people  called  impostors.  Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  the  blame  of  the  imposture  might  possibly  lie  with 
the  person  imposed  on  ?  I  have  heard  of  people  falling  into 
the  delusion  that  a  certain  modest  and  simple-minded 
man  was  a  great  politician  or  a  great  wit,  although  he  had 
never  claimed  to  be  anything  of  the  kind;  and  then  when 
they  found  out  that  in  truth  he  was  just  what  he  had  pre- 
tended to  be,  they  called  out  against  him  as  an  impostor.  I 
have  heard,  too,  of  young  gentlemen  accusing  women  of 
imposture  whose  only  crime  was  that  they  did  not  possess 
qualities  which  they  had  never  pretended  to  possess,  but 
which  the  young  gentlemen  fancied  they  ought  to  possess. 
Mrs.  Lorrame  may  be  in  impostor  to  you.  I  think  she  is  a 
thoroughly  good  woman,  and  I  know  she  is  a  very  delight- 
ful companion.  And  if  you  want  to  know  how  she  means  to 
find  Sheila  out,  I  can  tell  you.  She  thinks  that  Sheila  would 
probably  go  to  a  hotel,  but  that  afterward  she  would  try  to 
find  lodgings  with  some  of  the  people  whom  she  had  got  to 
know  through  her  giving  them  assistance.  Mrs.  Lorraine  would 
like  to  ask  your  servants  about  the  women  who  used  to  come 
for  this  help.  Then,  she  thinks.  Sheila  would  probably  get 
some  one  of  these  humble  friends  to  call  for  her  letters,  for 
she  would  like  to  hear  from  her  father,  and  she  would  not 
care  to  tell  him  that  she  had  left  your  house.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  supposition  in  all  this,  but  Mrs.  Lorraine  is  a 
shrewd  woman,  and  I  would  trust  to  her  instinct  in  such 
matters  a  long  way.  She  is  quite  sure  that  Sheila  would  be 
too  proud  to  tell  her  father,  and  very  much  averse,  also,  to 
inflicting  so  severe  a  b'ow  on  him.'' 

** But  surely,"  Lavender  said  hastily,  "  if  Sheila  wishes 
to  conceal  this  affair  for  a  time,  she  must  believe  it  to  be 
only  temporary?  She  cannot  propose  to  make  the  separa- 
tion final  ?'' 

"  'I  hat  I  don't  know  anything  about.  I  would  advise 
you  to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Lorraine." 

"I  won't  go  and  seeMis.  Lorraine." 

"Now,  this  is  unreasonal  le.  Lavender,  you  begin  to  fancy 
that  Sheila  had  some  sort  of  dislike  to  Mrs  Lorraine, 
founded  on  ignorance,  and  straightway  you  think  it  is  your 
duty  to  go  and  hate  the  woman.  Whatever  you  may 
think  of  her,  she  is  willing  to  do  you  a  service." 

'•'  Will  you  go,  Ingram,  and  take  her  to  those  servants  ?" 


A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE.  33 1 

"  Certainly  I  will,  if  you  commission  me  to  do  so,"  said 
Ingram  readily. 

"  I  suppose  they  all  know  ?" 

"  They  do." 

"  And  every  one  else  ? 

"I  should  think  few  of  your  friends  would  remain 
in  ignorance  of  it." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Lavender,  "  if  only  I  could  get  Sheila  to 
overlook  what  is  past  this  once,  I  should  not  trouble  my 
dear  friends  and  acquaintances  for  their  sympathy  and  con- 
dolence. By  the  time  I  saw  them  again  1  fancy  they  would 
have  forgotten  our  names." 

There  was  no  doubt  of  the  fact  that  the  news  of  Sheila's 
flight  from  her  husband's  house  had  traveled  very  speedily 
around  the  circle  of  Lavender's  friends,  and  doubtless  in  due 
time  it  reached  the  ears  of  his  aunt.  At  all  events,  Mrs. 
Lavender  sent  a  message  to  Ingram,  asking  him  to  come  and 
see  her.  When  he  went  he  found  the  little  dry,  hard-eyed 
woman  in  a  terrible  passion.  She  had  forgotten  all  about 
Marcus  Aurelius  and  the  composure  of  a  philosopher,  and 
the  effect  of  anger  on  the  nervous  system.  She  was  bolstered 
up  in  bed,  for  she  had  had  another  bad  fit,  but  she  was  brisk 
enou2;h  in  her  manner  and  fierce  enough  in  her  language. 

"Mr.  Ingram,"  she  said,  the  moment  he  had  entered,  "  do 
you  consider  my  nephew  a  beast  ?" 

"  I  don't,"  he  said. 

"I  do,"  she  retorted. 

"  Then  you  are  quite  mistaken,  Mrs.  Lavender.  Probably 
you  have  heard  some  exaggerated  story  of  all  this  business. 
He  has  been  very  inconsiderate  and  thoughtless,  certainly, 
but  I  don't  believe  he  quite  knew  how  sensitive  his  wife  was; 
and  he  is  very  repentant  now,  and  I  know  he  will  keep  his 
promises." 

"  You  would  apologize  for  the  devil,"  said  the  little  old 
woman,  frowning. 

*'  I  would  try  to  give  him  his  due,  at  all  events,"  said  In- 
gram, with  a  laugh.  "1  know  Frank  Lavender  very  well — I 
have  known  him  for  years — and  I  know  there  is  good  stuff  in 
him,  which  may  be  developed  in  proper  circumstances. 
After  all,  v/hat  is  there  more  common  than  for  a  married  man 
to  neglect  his  wife?  He  only  did  unconsciously  and 
thoughtlessly  what  heaps  of  men  do  deliberately," 


332  A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

"  You  are  making  me  angry,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  in  a 
severe  voice. 

*' I  don't  think  it  fair  to  expect  men  to  be  demigods," 
Ingram  said,  carelessly.  "  I  never  met  any  demigods  my- 
self; they  don't  live  in  my  neighborhood.  Perhaps  if  I  had 
had  some  experience  of  a  batch  of  them,  I  should  be  more 
censorious  of  other  people,  If  you  set  up  Frank  for  a  Bay- 
ard, is  it  his  fault  or  yours?" 

"  I  am  not  going  to  be  talked  out  of  my  common  sense, 
and  me  on  my  death-bed,"  said  the  old  lady,  impatiently, 
and  yet  with  some  secret  hope  that  Ingram  would  go  on  talk- 
ing and  amuse  her.  "  I  won't  have  you  say  he  is  anything 
but  a  stupid  and  ungrateful  boy,  who  married  a  wife  far  too 
good  for  him.  He  is  worse  than  that — he  is  much  worse  than 
that;  but  as  this  may  be  my  death-bed,  I  will  keep  a  civil 
tongue  in  my  head." 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  like  his  wife  very  much  ?"  said  In- 
gram. 

"  I  am  not  bound  to  like  her  because  I  think  badly  of 
him,  am  I  ?  She  v^ras  not  a  bad  sort  of  a  girl,  after  all — 
temper  a  little  stiff,  perhaps;  but  she  was  honest.  It  did 
one's  eyes  good  to  look  at  her  bright  face.  Yes,  she  was  a 
good  sort  of  a  creature  in  her  way.  But  when  she  ran  off 
from  him,  why  didn't  she  come  to  me  ?" 
"  Perhaps  you  never  encouraged  her." 
"  Encouragement  !  Where  ought  a  married  woman  go 
to  but  to  her  husband's  relatives?  If  she  cannot  stay  with 
him,  let  her  take  the  next  best  substitute.  It  was  her  duty  to 
come  to  me." 

"  If  Sheila  had  fancied  it  to  be  her  duty,  she  would  have 
come  here  at  any  cost." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Ingram  ?"  said  Mrs.  Lavender, 
severel}'. 

"Well,  supposing  she  didn't  like  you — "  he  was  beginning 
to  say  cautiously,  when  she  sharply  interrupted  him: 
"She  didn't  like  me,  eh?" 

"  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  was  about  to  say  that  if 
she  had  thought  it  her  duty  to  come  here,  she  would  have 
come  in  any  circumstances." 

"  She  might  have  done  worse.  A  young  woman  risks  a 
^reat  deal  in  running  away  from  her  husband's  home. 
People  will  talk.     Who  is  to  make  people  believe  just  the 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  333 

version  of  the  story  that  the  husband  or  the  wife  would 
prefer?'' 

"And  what  does  Sheila  care,"  said  Ingram,  with  a  hot  flush 
in  his  face,  **  for  the  belief  of  a  lot  of  idle  gossips  and 
slanderers  ?" 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ingram,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  you  are  not 
a  woman,  and  you  don't  know  the  bother  one  has  to  look 
after  one's  reputation.  But  that  is  a  question  not  likely  to 
interest  you.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Do  you  know 
why  I  wanted  you  to  come  and  see  me  to-day?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't." 

"  I  mean  to  leave  you  all  my  money." 

He  stared.  She  did  not  appear  to  be  joking.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  her  ra2;e  against  her  nephew  had  carried  her  to  this 
extreme  resolve  ? 

"  Oh  !"  he  stammered,  "but  I  won't  have  it,  Mrs.  Laven- 
der." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  have  it,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  se- 
verely. "  You  are  a  poor  man.  You  could  make  good  use 
of  my  money — better  than  a  charity  board  that  would  starve 
the  poor  with  a  penny  out  of  each  shilling,  and  spend  the 
other  elevenpence  in  treating  their  friends  to  flower-shows  and 
dinners.  Do  you  think  I  mean  to  leave  my  money  to  such 
people?  You  shall  have  it.  I  think  you  would  look  very  well 
driving  a  mail-phaeton  in  the  park;  and  I  suppose  you  would 
give  up  your  pipes  and  your  philosophy  and  your  bachelor 
walks  into  the  country.  You  would  marry,  of  course;  every 
man  is  bound  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  that  way  as  soon  as  he 
gets  money  enough  to  do  it  with.  But  perhaps  you  might 
come  across  a  clever  and  sensible  woman,  who  would  look 
after  you  and  give  you  your  own  way  while  having  her  own. 
Only  don't  marry  a  fool.  Whatever  you  do  don't  marry  a 
fool,  or  all  your  philosophers  won't  make  the  house  beara- 
ble to  you." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  marry  anybody,  Mrs.  Lavender,"  said 
Ingram,  carelessly. 

"  Is  there  no  woman  you  know  whom  you  would  care  to 
marry  ?" 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  there  is  one  woman — yes — vfho  seems  to 
roe  about  everything  a  man  could  wish,  but  the  notion  of  my 
marrying  her  is  absurd.  If  I  had  known  in  time,  don't  you 
see,  that  I  should  ever  think  of  such  a  thing,  I  should  have 


334  A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

begun  years  ago  to  dye  my  hair.  I  can't  begin  now.  Gray 
hair  inspires  reverence,  I  believe,  but  it  is  a  bad  thing  to  go 
courting  with." 

"  You  must  not  talk  foolishly,"  said  the  little  old  lady,  with 
a  frown.  "  Do  you  think  a  sensible  woman  wants  to  marry  a 
boy  who  will  torment  her  with  his  folly  and  his  empty  head 
and  his  running  after  a  dozen  different  women?  Gray  hair! 
,If  you  think  gray  hair  is  a  bad  thing  to  go  courting  with,  I 
will  give  you  something  better.  I  will  put  something  in  your 
head  that  will  make  the  young  lady  forget  your  gray  hair. 
Oh,  of  course  you  will  say  that  she  cannot  be  tempted,  and 
that  she  despises  money.  If  so,  how  much  the  better  ?  but  I 
have  known  more  women  than  you,  and  my  hair  is  grayer 
than  yours,  and  you  will  find  that  a  little  money  won't  stand 
in  the  way  of  your  being  accepted." 

He  had  made  some  gesture  of  protest,  not  against  her 
speaking  of  the  possible  marriage,  which  scarcely  interested 
him  so  remote  was  the  possibility,  but  against  her  returning 
to  this  other  proposal.  And  when  he  saw  the  old  woman 
really  meant  to  do  this  thing,  he  found  it  necessary  to  de- 
clare himself  explicitly  on  the  point. 

''Oh,  don't  imagine,  Mrs.  Lavender,"  he  said,  "that  I 
have  any  wild  horror  of  money,  or  that  I  suppose  any  one 
else  would  have.  I  should  like  to  have  five  times  or  ten 
times  as  much  as  you  seem  generously  disposed  to  give  me. 
But  here  is  the  point,  you  see.  I  am  a  vain  person.  I  am 
very  proud  of  my  own  opinion  of  myse'f,  and  if  I  ac- 
ceded to  what  you  propose — if  I  took  your  money — I  sup- 
pose I  should  be  driving  about  in  that  fine  phaeton  you  speak 
of.  That  is  very  good.  I  like  driving,  and  I  should  be 
pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the  trap  and  the  horses. 
But  what  do  you  fancy  I  should  think  of  myself — what 
would  be  my  opinion  of  my  own  nobleness  and  generosity 
and  humanity — if  I  saw  Sheila  Mackenzie  walking  by  on  the 
pavement,  without  any  carriage  to  drive  in,  perhaps  without 
a  notion  as  to  where  she  was  going  to  get  her  dinner?  I 
should  be  a  great  hero  to  myself  then,  shouldn't  I  ?" 

"Oh,  Sheila  again!"  said  the  old  woman  in  a  tone  of 
vexation.  "I  can't  imagine  what  there  is  in  that  girl  to 
make  men  rave  so  about  her.  That  Jew-boy  is  become  a 
thorough  nuisance;  you  would  fancy  she  had  just  stepped 
down  out  of  the  clouds  to  present  him  with  a  gold  harp,  and 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  335 

that  he  couldn't  look  up  to  her  face.  And  are  you  just  as 
bad.  You  are  worse,  for  you  don't  blow  it  off  in  steam. 
Well,  there  need  be  no  difficulty.  1  meant  to  leave  the  girl 
in  your  charge.  You  take  the  money  and  look  after  her;  I 
know  she  won't  starve.  Take  it  in  trust  for  her,  if  you 
like." 

"But  that  is  a  fearful  responsibility,  Mrs.  Lavender,"  he 
said  in  dismay.  "  She  is  a  married  woman.  Ker  husband  is 
the  proper  person — " 

"I  tell  you,  I  won't  give  him  a  farthing!"  she  said,  with  a 
sudden  sharpness  that  startled  him — "  not  a  farthing!  If  he 
wants  money  let  him  work  for  it,  as  other  people  do;  and 
then,  v^hen  he  has  done  that,  if  he  is  to  have  any  of  my 
money,  he  must  be  beholden  for  it  to  his  wife  and  to  you." 

"  Do  ycu  think  that  Sheila  would  accept  anything  that  she 
would  not  immediately  hand  over  to  him?" 

"  Then  he  must  come  first  to  you." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  inflict  humiliation  on  any  one,"  said 
Ingram,  stiffly.  "I  don't  want  to  play  the  part  ofahttle 
Providence,  and  mete  out  punishment  in  that  way.  I  might 
have  to  begin  with  myself." 

*'  Now,  don't  be  foolish, "  said  the  old  lady,  with  a  men- 
acing composure.  "I  give  you  fair  warning;  the  next  fit 
will  do  for  me.  If  you  don't  care  to  take  my  money,  and 
keep  it  in  trust  for  this  girl  you  profess  to  care  so  much 
about,  I  will  leave  it  to  found  an  institution,  mind  you.  I 
mean  to  teach  people  what  they  should  eat  and  drink,  and 
the  various  effects  of  food  on  various  constitutions." 

"  It  is  an  important  subject,"  Ingram  admitted. 

"Is  it  not?  What  is  the  use  of  giving  people  laborious 
information  about  the  idle  fancies  of  generations  that  lived 
ages  before  they  were  born,  while  you  are  letting  them 
poison  their  Fystem,  and  lay  up  for  themselves  a  fearfully 
painful  old  age,  by  the  continuous  use  of  unsuitable  food? 
That  book  you  gave  me,  Mr.  Ingram,  is  a  wonderful  bock, 
but  it  gives  you  little  consolation  if  you  know  another  fit 
is  coming  on.  And  what  is  the  good  of  knowing  about 
Epictetus  and  Zeno  and  the  rest  if  youv'e  got  rheumatism? 
Now,  I  mean  to  have  classes  to  teach  people  what  they 
should  eat  and  drink;  and  I'll  do  it  if  you  won't  assume 
^he  guardianship  of  my  nephew's  wife." 

**But  this  is  the  wildest  notion  I  ever  heard   of,"   Ingram 


S3^  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

protested  again.  *' How  can  I  take  charge  of  her?  If 
Sheila,  herself,  had  shown  any  disposition  to  place  herself 
under  your  care,  it  might  have  been  different." 

"  Oh,  it  would  have  been  different  1"  cried  the  old  lady, 
with  a  shrill  laugh.  "  It  would  have  been  different  !  And 
what  did  you  eay  about  her  sense  of  duty  to  her  husband's 
relatives?     Did  you  say  anything  about  that?"' 

"  Well — "  Ingram  was  about  to  siy,  being  lost  in  amaze- 
ment at  the  odd  glee  of  this  withered  old  creature. 

"  Where  do  you  think  a  young  wife  should  go  if  she  runs 
off  from  her  husband's  house?"  cried  Mrs.  Lavender,  appar- 
ently much  amused  by  his  perplexity.  "  Where  can  she 
best  escape  calumny  ?  Poor  man  !  I  won't  frighten  you 
or  disturb  you  any  longer.  Ring  the  bell,  will  you?  I  want 
Paterson." 

Ingram  rang. 

"Paterson,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  when  the  tall  and  grave 
woman  appeared,  "  ask  Mrs.  Lavender  if  she  can  come  here 
for  a  few  minutes." 

Ingram  looked  at  the  old  woman  to  see  if  she  had  gone 
mad,  and  then,  somehow,  he  instinctively  turned  to  the  door. 
He  fa'icied  he  knew  that  quick,  light  step.  And  then,  be- 
fore he  well  knew  how.  Sheila  had  come  forward  to  him  with 
her  hands  outstretched  and  with  something  like  a  smile  on  her 
pale  face.  She  looked  at  him  for  a  second;  she  tried  to 
speak  to  him,  but  there  was  a  dangerous  quivering  of  the 
lips,  and  then  she  suddenly  burst  into  tears,  and  let  go  his 
hands  and  turned  away.  In  that  btief  moment  he  had  seen 
what  havoc  had  been  wrought  within  the  past  two  or  three 
days.  There  were  the  same  proud  and  handsome  features, 
but  they  were  pale  and  worn,  and  there  was  a  piteous  and 
weary  look  in  the  eyes  that  told  of  the  trouble  and  heart- 
rending of  sleepless  nighis. 

"  Sheilj,"  he  said,  following  her  and  taking  her  hand, 
"  dees  any  one  know  of  your  being  here  ?  ' 

*'  No,"  she  said,  still  holding  her  head  aside  and  downcast; 
*'  no  one.  And  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to  know.  I  am  going 
away." 

"Where?" 

"  Don't  you  ask  too  much,  Mr.  Ingram,"  said  the  old  lady, 
from  amid  her  cushions  and  curtains.  "  Give  her  that  am- 
monia— the  stopper  only.       Now,  sit  down,  child,    and   dry 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  337 

your  eyes.  You  need  not  be  ashamed  to  shew  Mr.  Ingram 
that  you  knew  where  you  ought  to  come  when  you  left  your 
husband's  house.  And  if  you  won't  stop  here,  of  course  I 
can't  compel  you,  though  Mr.  Ingram  will  tell  you  you 
might  do  worse." 

"  Sheila,  why  do  you  wish  to  go  away  ?  Do  you  mean  to 
go  back  to  the  Lewis?" 

"Oh,  no,  no  !"  she  said,  almost  shuddering. 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go?" 

"Anywhere — it  does  not  matter.  But  I  cannot  remain 
here.  I  should  meet  wiih — with  many  people  I  used  to 
know.  Mrs.  Lavender,  she  is  kind  enough  to  say  she  will 
get  me  some  place  for  Mairi  and  me;  that  is  all,  as  yet,  that 
is  se'tled.'' 

"Is  Mairi  with  you?" 

"Yes:  I  will  go  and  bring  her  to  you.  It  is  not  any  one 
in  London  she  will  want  to  see  as  much  as  you." 

Sheila  left  the  room,  and  by  and  by  came  back,  leading 
the  young  Highland  girl  by  the  hand.  Mairi  was  greatly 
embarrassed,  scarcely  knowing  whether  she  should  show  any 
gladness  at  meeting  this  old  friend  amid  so  much  trouble. 
But  when  Ingram  shook  hands  with  her,  and  aficr  she  had 
blushed  and  looked  shy  and  said,  "  And  are  you  ferry  well, 
sir?"  she  managed  somehow  to  lift  her  eyes  to  his  face;  and 
then  she  said  suddenly:  "  And  it  is  a  good  day,  this  day,  for 
Miss  Sheila,  that  you  will  come  to  see  her,  Mr.  Ingram,  for 
she  will  hef  a  friend  now.'' 

**  You  silly  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  sharply,  "why  wiU 
you  siy  '■  Miss  Sheila?'  Don't  you  know  she  is  a  married 
woman  ?" 

Mairi  glanced  in  a  nervous  and  timid  manner  toward  the 
bed.  She  was  evidently  afraid  of  the  little  shrivelled  old  woman 
with  the  staring  black  eyes  and  the  harsh  voice. 

"  Mairi  hasn't  forgotten  her  old  habits,  that  is  all,"  said 
Ingram,  patting  her  good-naturedly  on  the  head. 

And  then  he  sat  down  again,  and  it  seemed  so  stringe  to 
see  these  two  together  again,  and  to  hear  the  odd  inflection 
of  Mairi's  voice,  that  he  almost  forgot  that  he  had  made  a 
great  discovery  in  learning  of  Siieila's  whereabouts,  and 
wholly  forgot  that  he  had  just  been  offered,  and  had  just 
refused,  a  fortune. 


338  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MEETING    AND    PARTING. 

The  appearance  of  Sheila  in  Mrs.  Lavender's  house  cer- 
tainly surprised  Ingram,  but  the  motives  which  led  her  to  go 
thither  were  simple  enough.  On  the  morning  on  which  she 
had  left  her  husband's  house,  she  and  Mairi  had  been  driven 
up  to  Euston  Square  Scaiion  before  she  seemed  capable  of 
coming  to  any  decision.  Mairi  guessed  at  what  had  happened 
with  a  great  fear  at  her  heart,  and  did  not  dare  to  speak  of 
it.  She  sit,  mute  and  frightened,  in  a  corner  of  the  cab,  and 
only  glanced  from  time  to  time  at  her  companion's  pale  face 
and  troubled  and  distant  eyes. 

They  were  driven  in  to  the  station.  Sheila  got  out,  still 
seeming  to  know  nothing  of  what  was  around  her.  The  cab- 
man took  down  Mairi's  trunk  and  handed  it  to  a  porter. 

"  Where  for,  miss  ?"  said  the  man.     And  she  started. 

"Where  will  you  be  going,  Miss  Sheila?"  said  Mairi, 
timidly. 

"  It  is  no  matter  just  now,"  said  Sheila  to  the  porter,  "if 
you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  take  charge  of  the  trunk.  And 
how  much  must  I  pay  the  cabman  from  Notting  Hill  ?" 

She  gave  him  the  money  and  walked  into  the  great  stone- 
paved  hall,  with  its  lofty  roof  and  sounding  echoes. 

"Mairi,''  she  said,  "I  have  gone  away  from  my  own 
home,  and  I  have  no  home  for  you  or  myself  either.  What 
are  we  to  do?" 

"Are  you  quite  sure.  Miss  Sheila,"  said  the  girl,  dismayed 
beyond  expression,  "that  you  will  not  go  back  to  your  own 
house  ?  It  wass  a  bad  day  this  day  that  I  wass  come  to  Lon- 
don to  find  you  going  away  from  your  own  house;"  and 
Mairi  began  to  cry.  *'  Will  we  go  back  to  the  Lewis,  Miss 
Sheila?"  she  said.  "  It  is  many  a  one  there  will  be  proud 
and  pleased  to  see  you  again  in  sa  Leviris,  and  there  will  be 
plenty  of  homes  for  you  there — oh  )  es,  ferry  many  that  will 
be  glad  to  see  you!  And  it  wa^s  a  bad  day  sa 
day  you  left  the  Lewis  whatever;  and  if  you  will  go  back 
again,  Miss  Sheila,  you  will  neffer  hef  to  go  away  again,  not 
any  more." 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  339 

Sheila  looked  at  the  girl — at  the  pretty  pale  face,  the 
troubled  light-blue  eyes  and  the  abundant  fair-yellow  hair.  It 
was  Mairi,  sure  enough,  who  was  talking  to  her,  and  yet  it 
was  in  a  strange  place.  Tliere  was  no  sea  dashing  outside, 
no  tide  running  in  from  the  Atlantic.  And  where  was  old 
Scarlett,  with  her  complaints  and  her  petulance  and  hei 
motherly  kindness? 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  have  come  to  London,  Miiri,'' Sheila 
said,  wistfully;  *'  for  I  have  no  house  to  take  you  into,  and 
we  must  go  now  and  find  one." 

"You  will  not  go  back  to  sa  Lewis,  Miss  Sheila?" 

"  They  would  not  know  me  in  the  Lewis  any  more,  Mairi. 
I  have  been  too  long  away,  and  I  am  quite  changed.  It  is 
many  a  time  I  will  think  of  going  back ;  but  when  I  left  the 
Lewis  I  was  married,  and  now — ,  How  could  I  go  back  to 
the  Lewis,  Mairi  ?  They  would  look  at  me.  They  would 
ask  questions.  My  father  would  come  down  to  the  quay,  and 
he  would  say:  'Sheila,  have  you  come  back  alone  ?'  And 
all  the  story  of  it  would  go  about  the  island,  and  every  one 
would  say  I  had  been  a  bad  wife,  and  my  husband  had  gone 
away  from  me." 

"There  is  not  any  one,"  said  Mairi,  with  the  tears  starting 
to  her  eyes  again — "  not  from  one  end  of  sa  island  to  sa 
other — would  say  that  of  you,  Miss  Sheila;  and  there  is  no 
one  would  not  come  to  meet  you,  and  be  glad  sat  you  will 
come  again  to  your  own  home.  And  as  for  going  back,  I 
will  be  ferry  glad  to  go  back  whatever,  for  it  was  you  I  was 
come  to  see,  and  not  any  town;  and  I  do  not  like  this  town, 
what  I  hef  seen  of  it,  and  I  will  be  ferry  glad  to  go  away  Avis 
you.  Miss  Sheila." 

Sheila  did  not  answer.  She  felt  that  it  v/as  impossible  she 
could  go  back  to  her  own  people  with  this  disgrace  upon 
her,  and  did  not  even  argue  the  case  with  herself.  All  her 
trouble  now  was  to  find  some  harbor  of  refuge  into  which  she 
could  flee,  so  that  she  might  have  quiet  and  solitude,  and  an 
opportunity  of  studying  all  that  had  befallen  her.  The  nois6 
around  her — the  arrival  of  travelers,  the  transference  of  lug- 
gage, the  screaming  of  trains — stunned  and  confused  her; 
and  she  could  only  vaguely  think  of  all  the  people  she  knew 
in  London,  to  see  to  whom  see  could  go  for  advice  and  di- 
rection. They  were  not  many.  One  after  the  other  she 
went  over  the  acquaintances  she  had  made,  and  not  one  of 


340  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

them  appeared  to  her  in  the  light  of  a  friend.  One  friend  she 
had  who  would  have  rejoiced  to  be  of  the  least  assistance  to 
her,  but  her  husband  had  forbidden  her  to  hold  communica- 
tion with  him,,  and  she  felt  a  strange  sort  of  pride,  even  at 
this  moment,  in  resolving  to  obey  that  injunction.  In  all  this 
great  city  that  lay  around  her  there  was  no  other  to  whom 
she  could  frankly  and  readily  go.  That  one  friend  she  had 
possessed  before  she  came  to  Ljndon:  in  London  she  had 
not  made  another. 

And  yet  it  was  necessary  to  do  something,  for  who  could 
tell  but  that  her  husband  might  come  to  this  station  in 
search  of  her?  Mairi's  anxiety,  too,  was  increasing  every 
moment,  insomuch  that  she  was  fairly  trembling  with 
excitement  and  fatigue.  Sheila  resolved  that  she  would  go 
down  and  throw  herself  on  tlie  tender  mercies  of  that  ter- 
rible old  lady  in  Kensington  Gore.  For  one  thing,  she 
ins'inctively  sought  the  help  of  a  woman  in  her  present 
plight;  and  perhaps  this  harshly-sp:'ken  old  lady  would  be 
gentle  to  her  when  all  her  story  was  told.  Another  thing 
that  prompted  this  decision  was  a  sort  of  secret  wish  to 
identify  herself  even  yet  with  her  husband's  family — to 
prove  to  herself,  as  it  were,  that  they  had  not  cast  her  off  as 
b:ing  unworthy  of  him.  Nothing  was  farther  from  her 
mind  at  this  moment  than  any  desire  to  pave  the  way  for 
reconciliation  and  reunion  with  her  husband.  Her  whole 
anxiety  was  to  get  away  from  him,  to  put  an  end  to  a  state 
of  things  which  she  had  found  to  be  more  than  she  could  bear. 
And  yet  if  she  had  had  friends  in  London  called  respect- 
ively Mackenzie  and  Lavender,  and  if  she  had  been  equally 
intimate  with  both,  she  would  at  this  moment  have  preferred 
to  go  for  help  to  those  bearing  the  name  of  Lavender. 
'  There  was  doubtless  something  strangely  inconsistent  in 
this  instinct  of  wifely  loyally  and  duty  in  a  woman  who  had 
just  voluntarily  left  her  hu-iband's  hjuse.  Lavender  had  de- 
tired  her  not  to  hold  communication  with  Edward  Ligram: 
even  now  she  would  respect  his  wish.  Lavender  wou  d  pre- 
fer that  she  should  in  any  great  extremity  go  to  lis  aunt  for 
assistance  and  counsel;  and  to  his  aunt,  desp  te  h^r 
own  dislike  of  the  woman,  she  wou^'  go.  At  this  moment, 
when  Sheila's  proud  spirit  had  risen  up  in  revolt  against  a 
system  of  treatment  that  had  become  insufferable  to  her, 
w.icii  she  had  been  forced  to  Lave  her  home  and  incar  the 


A   PRIXCESS    OF  THULE.  34 1 

►•ontemptuous  compassion  of  friends  and  acquaintances,  if 
Edward  Ingram  himself  had  happened  to  meet  her,  and  had 
begun  to  say  sharp  things  of  Lavender,  she  would  have  sharply 
recalled  him  to  a  sense  of  discretion  that  one  must  use  in 
speaking  to  a  wife  of  her  husband. 

The  two  homeless  girls  got  into  another  cab,  and  were 
driven  down  to  Kensington  Gore.  Shcilaasked  if  she  could 
see  Mrs.  Lavender.  She  knew  that  the  eld  lady  had  had 
another  bad  fit;  but  she  was  supposed  to  be  recovering 
rapdly.  Mrs.  Lavender  would  s;e  her  in  her  bedroom,  and 
so  S'eila  went  up.     The  girl  could  not  speak. 

"Yes,  I  see  it — something  wrong  about  that  precious  hus- 
band of  yours,"  said  the  old  lady,  watching  her  keenly.  "  I 
expected  it.     Goon.     What  is  the  matter  ?" 

*•  I  have  left  him,"  Sheila  said,  with  her  face  very  pale,  but 
no  sign  of  emotion  about  the  firm  lips. 

"Oh,  rood  gracious,  child  1  Left  him  ?  How  many  people 
know  it  ?" 

"  No  one  but  yourself  and  d  young  Highland  girl,  who  has 
come  up  to  see  me." 

"You  came  to  me,  first  of  all?'' 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  no  other  friends  to  go  to  ?" 

"  I  considered  that  I  ought  to  come  to  you." 

There  was  no  cunning  in  the  speech;  it  was  the  simple 
truth.  Mrs.  Lavender  looked  at  her  hard  for  a  second  or 
two,  and  then  said,  in  what  she  meant  to  be  a  kind  way: 
"Come  here,  and  sit  down,  child,  and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
If  no  one  else  knows  it  there  is  no  harm  done.  We  can  easily 
patch  it  up  before  it  gets  abroad." 

"I  did  not  come  to  you  for  that,  Mrs.  Lavender,"  said 
Sheila,  calmly.  "  That  is  impossible;  that  is  all  over.  I  have 
come  to  ask  you  where  I  can  get  lodgings  for  my  friend  and 
myself." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it  first,  and  then  we'll  see  whether  it 
can't  be  mended.  ]\Iind,  I  atn  on  your  side,  though  I  am 
your  husband's  aunt.  I  think  you're  a  good  girl;  a  bit  of  a 
temper,  you  know,  but  you  manag.^  to  keep  it  quiet  ordinarily. 
You  tell  me  all  about  it,  and  you'll  see  if  I  haven't  means 
to  bring  him  to  reason.  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,  I'm  an  old  woman, 
but  I  can  find  some  means  to  bring  him  to  reason.''  And 
Lhc  hujhed  an  odd,  shrill  laugh. 


342  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

A  hot  flush  came  over  Sheila's  face.  Had  she  come  to  this 
old  woman  only  to  make  her  husband's  degradation  more 
complete?  Was  he  to  be  intimidated  into  making  friends 
with  her  by  a  threat  of  the  withdrawal  of  that  money  that 
Sheila  had  begun  to  detest?  And  this  was  what  her  notions 
of  wifely  duty  had  led  to! 

"Mrs.  Lavender,"  she  said,  with  the  proud  lips  very  proud 
indeed,  "  I  must  say  this  to  you  before  I  tell  you  anything. 
It  is  very  good  of  you  to  say  you  will  take  my  side,  but  I  did 
not  come  to  you  to  complain.  And  I  would  rather  not  have 
any  sympathy  from  you  if  it  only  means  that  you  v,'ill  speak 
ill  of  my  husband.  And  if  you  think  you  can  make  him  do 
things  because  you  give  him  money,  perhaps  that  is  true  at 
present,  but  it  may  not  always  be  true,  and  you  cannot  expect 
me  to  wish  it  to  continue.  I  would  rather  have  my  present 
trouble  twenty  times  over  than  see  him  being  brought  over 
to  any  woman's  wishes.'' 

Mrs.  Lavender  stared  at  her.  "Why,  you  astonishing  girl, 
I  believe  you  are  still  in  love  with  that  man!" 

Sheila  said  nothing. 

"  Is  it  true  ?"  she  said. 

"  I  suppose  a  woman  ought  to  love  her  husband,"  Sheila 
answered. 

"Even  if  he  turns  her  out  of  the  house?" 

''Perhaps  it  is  she  who  is  to  blame,"  Sheila,  said,  humbl}', 
"  Perhaps  her  education  was  wrong,  or  she  expects  too 
much  that  is  unreasonable,  or  perhaps  she  has  a  badtem.per. 
You  think  I  have  a  bad  temper,  Mrs.  Lavender,  and  might  it 
not  be  that?  ' 

"  Well,  I  think  you  want  your  own  way,  and  doubtless  you 
expect  to  have  it  now.  I  suppose  I  am  to  listen  to  all  your 
story,  and  I  must  not  say  a  word  about  my  own  nephew.  But 
sit  down  and  tell  me  all  aboi.t  it,  and  then  you  can  justify 
him  afterward,  if  yc  like  it.'' 

It  was  probably,  however,  the  notion  that  Sheila  would  try 
to  justify  Lavend-;r  all  through  that  put  th  old  lady  on  her 
guard,  and  made  her.  indeed,  regard  Lavender's  conduct  in 
an  unfairly  bad  light.  Sheila  told  the  story  .  ,  simply  as  she 
could,  putting  everything  down  to  her  husband's  advantage 
ihat  was  possible,  and  asking  fcr  no  sympathy  whatsoever. 
She  only  wanted  to  remain  away  from  his  house;  and  by 
what  means  could  she  and  this  young  cousin  of  hers  find 


fl  PRINCESS  OF  THULE.  343 

cheap  lodgings  where  they  could  live  quietly  and  without 
much  fear  of  detection? 

Mrs.  Lavender  was  in  a  rage,  and  as  she  was  not  allowed 
to  vent  it  on  the  proper  object,  she  turned  upon  Sheila  her- 
self. "  The  Highlanders  are  a  proud  race,"  she  said  sharply. 
"  I  should  have  thought  that  rooms  in  this  house,  even  with 
the  society  of  a  cantankerous  old  woman,  would  have  been 
tolerated  for  a  time." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  make  the  offer,"  Sheila  said, 
"  but  I  do  not  wish  to  have  to  meet  my  husband  or  any  of 
his  friends.  There  is  enough  trouble  without  that.  If  you 
could  tell  me  where  to  get  lodgings  not  far  from  this  neigh- 
borhood, I  would  come  to  see  you  sometimes  at  such  hours 
as  I  know  he  cannot  be  here.'' 

"  But  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean.  You  won't  go 
back  to  your  husband,  although  I  could  manage  that  for  you 
directly  —you  won't  hear  of  negotiations,  or  of  any  prospect 
of  your  going  back — and  yet  you  won't  go  home  to  your 
father." 

"  I  cannot  do  either,"  Sheila  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  live  in  these  lodging  always?" 

"  How  can  I  tell?"  said  the  girl,  piteously.  "  I  only  wish 
to  be  away,  and  I  cannot  go  back  to  my  papa,  with  all  this 
story  to  tell  him." 

"Well,  I  didn't  want  to  distress  you,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  You  know  your  own  affairs  best.  I  think  you  are  mad. 
If  you  would  calmly  reason  with  yourself,  and  show  to  your- 
self that  in  a  hundred  years,  or  less  than  that,  it  won't  mat- 
ter whether  you  gratified  your  pride  or  no,  you  would  see 
that  the  wisest  thing  you  can  do  now  is  to  take  an  easy  and 
comfortable  course.  You  are  in  an  excited  and  nervous  state 
at  present,  for  example;  and  that  is  destroying  so  much  of 
the  vital  portion  of  yuur  frame.  If  you  go  into  these  lodgings 
and  live  like  a  rat  in  a  hole,  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  but 
to  nurse  these  sorrows  of  yours,  and  find  them  grow  bigger 
and  bigger  while  you  grow  more  and  more  wretched.  All 
that  is  mere  pride  and  sentiment  and  folly.  On  the  other 
hand,  look  at  this.  Your  husband  is  sorry  you  are  away 
from  him;  yoj  may  take  that  for  granted.  You  say  he  was 
merely  thoughtless;  now  he  has  got  something  to  make  him 
til  ink,  and  would,  without  doubt,  come  and  beg  your  par- 
d  n  if  you  gave  him  a  chance.      I  write  to  him,  he  comes 


344  A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

down  here,  you  kiss  and  make  good   friends  again,  and  to- 
morrow morning  you  are  comfortable  and  happy  again. 

"To-morrow  morning!"  said  Sheila  sadly.  "Do  you 
know  how  we  should  be  situated  to-morrow  moi-ning  ? 
The  story  of  my  going  away  would  become  known  to  his 
friends;  he  would  go  among  them  as  though  he  had  suffered 
some  disgrace,  and  I  the  cause  of  it.  And  though  he  is  a 
man,  and  would  soon  be  careless  of  that,  how  could  I  go 
wiih  him  amongst  his  friends,  and  feel  that  I  had  shamed 
him?  It  would  be  worse  than  ever  between  us;  and  I  have 
no  wish  to  begin  again  what  ended  this  morning— none  at 
all,  Mrs.  Lavender." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  intend  to  live  per- 
manently apart  from  your  husband?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Sheila,  in  a  despairing  tone.  "  I 
cannot  tell  you.  What  I  feel  is  that,  with  all  this  trouble,  it 
is  better  that  our  life  as  it  was  in  that  house  should  come  to 
an  end." 

Then  she  arose.  There  was  a  tired  look  about  the  face,  as 
if  she  were  too  weary  to  care  whether  this  old  woman  would 
help  her  or  no.  Mrs.  Lavender  regarded  her  for  a  moment, 
wondering,  perhaps,  that  a  girl  so  handsome,  fine-colored, 
and  proud-eyed  should  be  distressing  herself  with  imaginary 
sentiments,  instead  of  taking  life  cheerfully,  enjoying  the 
hour  as  it  passed,  and  being  quite  assured  of  the  interest  and 
liking  and  homage  of  every  one  with  whom  she  came  in 
contact.  Sheila  turned  to  the  bed  once  more,  about  to  say 
that  she  had  troubled  Mrs.  Lavender  too  much  already,  and 
that  she  would  look  after  these  lodgings.  But  the  old  woman 
apparently  anticipated  as  much,  and  said,  with  much  delib- 
eration, that  if  Sheila  and  her  companion  would  only  remain 
one  or  two  days  in  the  house,  proper  rooms  should  be  pro- 
vided for  them  somewhere.  Young  girls  could  not  venture 
into  lodgings  without  strict  inquiries  being  made.  Sheila 
should  have  suitable  rooms,  and  Mrs.  Lavender  would  see 
that  she  was  properly  looked  after  and  that  she  wanted 
for  nothincr.     in  the  meantime  she  must  have  some  money. 

"It  is  kind  of  you,"  said  tne  girl,  blushing  hody,  "but  I 
do  not  require  it." 

"  Oh,  1  suppose  we  are  too  proud,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"If  we  disapprove  of  our  husband  taking  money,  we  must 
not  do  it  either.     Why,  child,  you  have  learnt  nothing  in 


A    PRINCESS    OF   THULE.  345 

London.  You  are  a  savage  yet.  You  must  let  me  give  you 
something  for  your  pocket,  or  what  are  you  to  do?  You 
say  you  have  left  everything  at  home.  Do  you  think  hair- 
brushes, for  example,  grow  on  trees;  that  you  can  go  into 
Kensington  Gardens  and  stock  your  rooms?" 
'  "  L  have  some  money — a  few  pounds — that  my  papa  gave 
me,"  Sheila  said. 

"  And  when  that  is  done  ?" 

"He  will  give  me  more." 

"And  yet  you  don't  wish  him  to  know  you  have  left  your 
husband's  house !  What  will  he  make  ot  these  repeated 
demands  for  money?" 

"My  papa  will  give  me  anything  I  want  without  asking 
any  questions." 

"Tnen  he  is  a  bigger  fool  than  I  expected.  Oh,  don't 
get  into  a  temper  again.  Those  sudden  shocks  of  color, 
child,  show  me  that  your  heart  is  out  of  order.  How  can 
you  expect  to  have  a  regular  pulsation  if  you  flare  up  at  any- 
thing one  may  say?  Now  go  and  fetch  me  your  Highland 
cousin.'' 

Mairi  came  into  the  room  in  a  very  timid  fashion,  and 
^stared  with  her  big,  light-blue  eyes  into  the  dusky  recess  in 
which  the  little  old  woman  sat  up  in  bed.     Sheila  took  her 
forward:  "  This  is  my  cousin  Mairi,  Mrs.  Lavender." 

"  And  are  you  ferry  well,  ma'am?"  said  Mairi,  holding  out 
her  hand  very  much  as  a  boy  pretends  to  hold  out  his  hand 
to  a  tiger  in  the  Zoological  Gardens. 

"Well,  young  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  staring  at  her, 
"  and  a  pretty  mess  you  have  got  us  into  ?" 

"3Ie!"  said  Mairi,  almost  with  a  cry  of  pain.  She  had  not 
imagined  before  that  she  had  anything  to  do  with  Sheila's 
trouble. 

"No,  no,  Mairi,"  her  companion  said,  taking  her  hand, 
"  it  was  not  you.  Mrs.  Lavender,  Mairi  does  not  under- 
stand our  way  of  joking  in  London.  Perhaps  she  will  learn 
before  she  goes  back  to  the  Highlands." 

"  There  is  one  thing,"  siid  Mrs.  Lavender,  observing  that 
Mairi's  eyes  had  filled  the  moment  she  was  charged  with 
bringing  trouble  on  Sheila — "there  is  one  thing  you  peop'e 
from  the  Highlands  seem  never  disposed  to  learn,  and  that 
is  to  have  a  liille  control  over  your  p?.ssions.  If  one  speaks 
^3  you  a  couple  of  words,  you  either  begin  to  cry  or  go  off 


346  A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

into  a  flash  of  rage.     Don't  you  know  how  bad  that  is  for  the 
health?" 

"And  yet,"  said  Sheila  with  a  smile — and  it  seemed  so 
strange  to  Mairi  to  see  her  smile — "  we  will  not  compare 
badly  in  health  with  the  people  about  us  here." 

Mrs.  Lavender  dropped  the  question,  and  began  to  ex- 
plain to  Sheila  what  she  advised  her  to  do.  In  the  mean- 
time both  the  girls  were  to  remain  in  her  house.  She  would 
'guarantee  their  being  met  by  no  one.  When  suitable  rooms 
had  been  looked  out  by  Paterson,  they  were  to  remove 
thither.  The  whole  situation  of  affairs  was  at  once  perceived 
by  Mrs.  Lavender's  attendant,  who  was  given  to  understand 
that  no  one  was  to  know  of  young  Mrs.  Lavender's  being  in 
the  house.  Then  the  old  woman,  much  contented  with  what 
she  had  done,  resolved  that  she  would  reward  herself  with  a 
joke,  and  sent  for  Edward  Ingram. 

When  Sheila,  as  already  described,  came  into  the  room, 
and  found  her  old  friend  there,  the  resolution  she  had  formed 
went  clean  out  of  her  mind.  She  forgot  entirely  the  ban  that 
had  been  placed  on  Ingram  by  her  husband.  Bat  after  her 
first  emotion  on  seeing  him  was  over,  and  when  he  began  to 
discuss  what  she  ought  to  do,  and  even  to  advise  her  in  a  dif- 
fident sort  of  way,  she  remembered  all  that  she  had  forgotten, 
and  was  ashamed  to  find  herself  sitting  there  and  talking  to 
him  as  if  it  were  in  her  father's  house  at  Borva.  Indeed, 
when  he  proposed  to  take  the  management  of  her  affairs  into 
his  own  hanas,  and  to  go  and  look  at  certain  apartments  that 
Paterson  had  proposed,  she  was  forced,  with  great  heart-burn- 
ing and  pain,  to  hint  to  him  that  she  could  not  avail  herself 
of  his  kindness. 

*'  But  why  ?''  he  asked,  with  a  stare  of  surprise. 

"You  remember  Brighton,"  she  answered,  looking  down- 
"  You  had  a  bad  return  for  your  kindness  to  me  then." 

"  Oh,  I  know,''  he  said  carelessly.  "  And  I  suppose  Mr. 
Lavender  wished  you  to  cut  me  after  my  impertinent  inter- 
ference. But  things  are  very  much  changed  now.  But  for 
the  time  he  went  North,  he  has  been  with  me  nearly  every 
hour  E'ince  you  left." 

"  Has  Frank  been  to  the  Lewis?"  she  said  suddenly,  with 
a  look  of  fear  on  her  face. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  he  had  only  been  to  Glasgow  to  sec  if  you  had 
gone  to  catch  the  Clansman  and  go  North  from  there." 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  347 

"Did  he  take  trouble  to  do  all  that?"  she  asked,  slowly 
and  wistfully. 

"  Trouble  !"  cried  Ingram.  "  He  appears  to  me  neither 
to  eat  nor  sleep  day  or  night,  but  to  go  wandering  about  in 
search  of  you  in  every  place  where  he  fancies  you  may  be. 
I  never  saw  a  man  so  beside  himself  with  anxiety.*' 

**  I  did  not  wish  to  make  him  anxious,"  said  Sheila  in  a 
low  voice,     "  Will  you  tell  him  that  I  am  well?" 

Mrs.  Lavender  began  to  smile.  Were  there  not  evident 
signs  of  softening?  But  Ingram,  who  knew  the  girl  better, 
was  not  deceived  by  these  appearances.  He  cuuld  see  that 
Sheila  merely  wished  that  her  husband  should  not  suffer 
pain  on  her  account;  that  was  all. 

"  I  was  about  to  ask  you,"  he  said  gently,  "what  I  may  say 
to  him.  He  comes  to  me  continually,  for  he  has  always 
fancied  that  you  would  communicate  with  me.  What  shall 
I  say  to  him,  Sheila?" 

"You  may  tell  him  that  I  am  well,"  she  answered. 

Mairi  had  by  this  time  stepped  out  of  the  room.  Sheila 
sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  her  fingers  working 
nervously  with  a  paper  knife  she  held. 

"Nothing  more  than  that?"  he  said. 

"  Nothing  more." 

He  saw  by  her  face,  and  he  could  tell  by  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  that  her  decision  was  resolute. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  child  !"  said  Mrs.  Lavender  emphati- 
cally. "  Here  is  your  husband's  friend,  who  can  make 
everything  straight  and  comfortable  for  you  in  an  hour  or 
two,  and  you  quietly  put  aside  the  chance  of  reconciliation 
and  bring  on  yourself  any  amount  of  misery.  I  don't  speak 
for  Frank.  Men  can  take  care  of  themselves;  they  have 
clubs  and  friends,  and  amusements  for  the  whole  day  long. 
But  you! — what  a  pleasant  life  you  would  have,  shut  up  in  a 
couple  of  rooms,  scarcely  daring  to  show  yourself  at  a  win- 
dow !  Your  fine  sentiments  are  all  ve  y  well,  but  they  won't 
stand  in  the  place  of  a  husband  to  you;  and  you  will  soon 
find  out  the  difference  between  living  by  yourself  like  that, 
and  having  some  one  in  the  house  to  look  afier  you.  Am  I 
right,  Mr.  Ingram,  or  am  I  wrong  ?" 

Ingram  paused  for  a  moment,  and  said,  "I  have  not  the 
same  courage  that  you  have,  Mrs.  Lavender,  I  dare  not  ad- 
\i5e  Sheila  one  way  or  the  other  at  present.     But  if  she  feels 


348  A    PRINXESS   OF    THULE. 

in  her  own  heart  that  she  would  rather  return  now  to  her 
husband,  I  can  safely  say  that  she  would  find  him  deeply 
grateful  to  her,  and  that  he  w.)uld  try  to  do  everything  that 
she  desired.  That  I  know.  He  wants  to  see  you.  Sheila,  if 
only  for  five  minutess,  to  beg  your  forgiveness. 

"  I  cannot  see  him,"  she  said,  with  the  same  sad  and  set- 
tled air. 

"  I  am  not  to  tell  him  where  you  are?" 

*'  Oh  no  !"  she  cried,  with  a  sudden  and  startled  emphasis. 
"You  must  not  do  that,  Mr.  Ingram.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  not  do  that?" 

"  I  do  promise  you ;  but  you  put  a  painful  duty  on  me. 
Sheila,  for  you  know  how  he  will  believe  that  a  short  inter- 
view with  you  would  put  everything  right;  and  he  will  look 
on  me  as  preventing  that." 

"  Do  you  think  a  short  interview  at  present  would  put 
everything  right?"  shesaid,  suddenly  looking  up,  and  regard- 
ing him  with  her  clear,  steadfast  eyes. 

He  dared  not  answer.  He  felt,  in  his  inmost  heart,  that 
it  w^ould  not. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Lavender,  "young  people  have  much 
satisfaction  in  being  proud.  Wlien  they  come  to  my  age, 
they  may  find  they  would  have  been  happier  if  they  had  been 
less  disdainful." 

"It  is  not  disdain,  Mrs,  Lavender,"  said  Sheila,  gently. 

"  Whatever  it  is,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  I  must  remind 
you  two  people  that  I  am  an  invahd.  Go  away  and  have 
luncheon.  Paterton  will  look  after  you.  Mr.  Ingram,  give 
me  that  book,  that  1  may  read  m.yself  into  a  nap,  and  don't 
forget  what  I  expect  of  you.' 

Ingram  suddenly  remembered.  He  and  Sheila  and  Mairi 
sat  v.'.  own  to  luncheon  in  the  dining-room,  and  while  he  strove 
to  get  them  to  talk  about  Borva,  he  was  thinking  all  the  time 
of  the  extraordinary  position  he  was  expected  to  assume  to- 
ward Sheila.  Not  only  was  he  to  be  the  repository  of  the 
secret  of  her  place  of  residence,  and  the  message-carrier  be- 
tween herself  and  her  husband,  but  he  was  also  to  take  Mrs. 
Lavender's  fortune,  in  the  event  of  her  dying,  and  hold  it  in 
trust  fui  the  young  wife  Surely  this  old  woman,  with  her 
suspicious  ways  and  her  worldly  wisdom,  would  not  be  so 
foolish  as  to  hand  him  over  all  her  property,  free  of  con- 
ditions, on  the  simple  understanding  that  when  he  chose  he 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  34g 

could  give  what  he  chose  to  Sheila  ?  And  yet  that  was 
•what  she  had  vowed  she  would  do,  to  Ingram's  profound  dis- 
may. 

He  labored  hard  to  lighten  the  spirits  of  those  two  girls. 
He  talked  of  John  the  Piper,  and  said  he  would  invite  him 
ap  to  London,  and  described  his  probable  appearance  in  the 
Park.  He  told  them  stories  of  his  adventures  while  he  was 
camping  out  with  some  young  artists  in  the  Western  High- 
lands, and  told  them  anecdotes,  old,  recent  and  of  his  own 
invention,  about  the  people  he  had  met.  Had  they  heard  of 
the  steward  on  board  one  of  the  Clyde  steamers  who  had  a 
percentage  on  the  drink  consumed  in  the  cabin,  and  who 
would  call  out  to  the  captain:  "  Why  wass  you  going  so 
fast  ?  Dinna  put  her  into  the  quay  so  fast!  There  is  a  gran' 
company  down  below,  and  they  are  drinking  fine!"  Had  he 
ever  told  them  of  the  porter  at  Arran  who  had  demanded 
sixpence  for  carrying  up  some  luggage,  but  who,  after  being 
sent  to  get  a  sovereign  changed,  came  back  with  only  eight- 
een shillings,  saying:  "  Oh,  yes,  it  iss  sexpence!  Oh,  ay,  it 
iss  sexpence!  But  it  iss  two  shuUens  ta  you!'''  Or  of  the 
other,  who,  after  being  paid,  hung  about  the  cottage-door 
for  nearly  an  hour,  until  Ingram,  coming  out,  asked  him 
why  he  waited;  whereupon  he  said,  with  an  air  of  perfect 
indifference:  '•' Oo,  ay,  there  was  something  said  about  a 
dram;  but  hoot  toot!  it  is  of  no  consequence  whatever!" 
And  was  it  true  that  the  sheriff  of  Stornoway  was  so  kind- 
hearted  a  man  that  he  remitted  the  punishment  of  certain 
culprits,  ordained  by  the  statute  to  be  whipped  with  birch 
rods,  on  the  ground  that  the  island  of  Lewis  produced  no 
birch,  and  that  he  was  not  b  >und  to  import  it?  And  had 
Mairi  heard  any  more  of  the  Black  Horse  of  Loch  Suaina- 
bhal?  And  where  had  she  pulled  those  splendid  bunches  of 
bell-heaiher  ? 

He  suddenly  stopped,  and  Sheila  looked  up  with  inquiring 
eyes.  How  did  he  know  that  Mairi  had  brought  those  things 
with  her?  Sheila  saw  that  he  must  have  gone  up  with  her 
husband  and  must  have  seen  the  room  which  she  had  deco- 
rated in  imitation  of  the  small  parlor  at  Borvapust.  She 
would  rather  not  think  of  that  room  now. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  the  Lewis  ?"  she  asked  of  him 
with  her  ejes  cast  down. 

*'Well,  I   think    I  have   changed    my  mind   about   that. 


35°  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

Sheila.     I  don't  think  I  shall  go  to  the  Lewis  this  Autumn.'' 

Her  face  became  more  and  more  embarrassed.  How  was 
she  to  thank  him  for  his  continued  thoughtfulness  and  self- 
sacrifice  ? 

"There  is  no  necessity,"  he  said  lightly.  "The  man  I  am. 
going  with  has  no  particular  purpose  in  view.  We  shall 
merely  go  cruising  about  those  wonderful  lochs  and  islands, 
and  I  am  sure  to  run  against  some  of  those  young  fellows  I 
know,  who  are  prowling  about  the  fishing-villages  with  porta- 
ble easels.  They  are  good  boys,  those  boys.  They  are  very 
hospitable,  if  they  have  only  a  single  bedroom  in  a  small 
cottage  as  their  studio  and  reception-room  comb'ned.  I 
should  not  wonder.  Sheila,  if  I  went  ashore  somewhere,  and 
put  up  my  lot  with  those  young  fellows,  and  listened  to  their 
wicked  stories,  and  lived  on  whisky  and  herrings  for  a 
month.  Would  you  like  to  see  me  return  to  Whitehall  in 
kilts?  And  I  should  go  into  the  office  and  salute  everybody 
with  '  And  are  you  ferry  w^ell?'  just  as  Mairi  does.  But  don't 
be  downhearted,  Mairi.  You  speak  English  a  good  deal  bet- 
ter than  many  English  folks  I  know;  and  by  the  time  you  go 
back  to  the  Lewis  we  shall  have  you  fit  to  become  a  school- 
mistress, not  only  in  Borva,  but  in  Stornaway  itself." 

"  I  was  told  it  is  ferry  good  English  they  have  in  Storno- 
way,"  said  Mairi,  not  very  sure  whether  Mr.  Ingram  was  jok- 
ing or  not. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  cried,  "I  tell  you  it  is  the  best  Eng- 
lish in  the  world.  If  the  queen  only  knew,  she  would  send 
her  grandchildren  to  be  educated  there.  But  I  must  go  now. 
Good-bye,  Mairi.  I  mean  to  come  and  take  you  to  a  theater 
some  night  soon.'' 

Sheila  accompanied  him  out  into  the  hall.  "When  shall 
you  see  him,''  she  said,  with  her  eyes  cast  down. 

*'  This  evening,"  he  answered. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  tell  him  that  I  am  well,  and  that  he 
need  not  be  anxious  about  me." 

"And  that  is  all?" 

"Yes,  that  is  all." 

"  Very  well,  Sheila.  I  wish  you  had  given  me  a  pleasanter 
message  to  carry,  but  when  you  think  of  doing  that  I  shall  be 
glad  to  take  it." 

Ingram  left  and  hastened  in  to  his  office.  Sheila's  affairs 
were  considerably  interfering   with   his  attendance  there— 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  35 1 

there  could  be  no  question  of  that — but  he  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  able  to  get  through  his  work  thoroughly,  what- 
ever might  be  the  hours  he  devoted  to  it,  so  that  he  did  not 
greatly  fear  being  rebuked  for  his  present  irregularities. 
Perhaps  if  a  grave  official  warninjr  had  been  probable,  even 
that  would  not  have  interfered  with  his  determination  to  do 
what  could  be  done  for  Sheila, 

But  this  business  of  carrying  a  message  to  Lavender  was 
the  most  serious  he  had  yet  undertaken.  He  had  to  make 
sundry  and  solemn  resolves  to  put  a  bold  face  on  the  matter 
at  the  outset,  and  declare  that  wild  horses  would  not  tear 
from  him  any  further  information.  He  feared  the  piteous 
appeals  that  might  be  made  to  him;  the  representations  that, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  an  imprudent  promise,  he  was  de- 
laying a  reconciliation  between  these  two  until  that  might 
be  impossible;  the  reasons  that  would  be  urged  on  him  for 
considering  Sheila's  welfare  as  paramount  to  his  own  scruples. 
He  went  through  the  interview  as  he  foresaw  it,  a  dozen 
times  over,  and  constructed  replies  to  each  argument  and 
entreaty.  Of  course,  it  would  be  simple  enough  to  meet  all 
Lavender's  demands  with  a  simple  "  No,"  but  there  are  cir- 
cumstances in  which  the  heroic  method  of  solving  difficul- 
ties becomes  a  trifle  inhuman. 

He  had  promised  to  dine  with  Lavender  that  evening 
at  his  club.  When  he  went  along  to  St.  James'  Street  at 
the  appointed  hour  his  host  had  not  arrived.  He  walked 
for  about  ten  minutes,  and  then  Lavender  appeared,  haggard 
and  worn  out  with  fatigue.  "I  have  heard  nothing — I  can 
hear  nothing — I  have  been  everywhere,"  he  said,  leading 
the  way  at  once  into  the  dining-room.  "  I  am  sorry  I  have 
kept  you  waiting,  Ingram," 

They  sat  down  at  a  small  side  table:  there  were  few  men 
in  the  club  at  this  late  se:xson,  so  that  they  could  talk  freely 
enoujh  when  the  waiter  had  come  and  gone. 

"  Well,  I  have  some  news  for  you,  Lavender,"  Ingram 
said, 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  is  ?"  said  the  other  eagerly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  ?"  he  almost  called  aloud  in  his  anxiety. 

"  Well,"  Ingram  said  slowly,  "  she  is  in  London,  and  she 
is  very  well;  and  you  need  have  no  anxiety  about  her." 

"But  where  is  she?"   demanded  Lavender,  taking  no 


352  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

heed  of  the  waiter,  who  was  standing  by  and  uncorking  a 
bottle. 

"  I  promised  her  not  to  tell  you." 

**  You  have  spoken  with  her,  then  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"What  did  she  say?  Where  has  she  been?  Good 
Heavens,  Ingram  !  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  going  to 
keep  it  a  secret?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  other;  *'  I  will  tell  you  everything  she 
said  to  me,  if  you  like.  Only  I  will  not  tell  you  wliere  she 
is." 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,"  said  Lavender  at  once,  "  if  she  does 
not  wish  me  to  know.  But  you  can  tell  me  about  herself  ? 
What  was  she  looking  like  ?     Is  Mairi  with  her  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mairi  is  v/ith  her.  And,  of  course,  she  is  looking  a 
little  troubled  and  pale,  and  so  forth,  but  she  is  very  well,  I 
should  think,  and  quite  comfortably  situated.  She  said  I  was 
to  tell  you  that  she  was  well,  and  that  you  need  not  be 
anxious." 

"  She  sent  a  message  to  me  ?" 

"  That  is  it." 

"  By  Jove,  Ingram!  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough?  I 
feel  as  glad  just  now  as  if  she  had  really  come  home  again. 
And  how  did  you  manage  it  ?'' 

Lavender,  in  his  excitement  and  gratitude,  kept  filling  up 
his  friend's  glass  the  moment  the  least  quantity  had  been 
taken  out  of  it;  the  wonder  was  he  did  not  fill  all  the  glasses 
on  that  side  of  the  table,  and  beseech  Ingram  to  have  two  or 
three  dinners  all  at  once. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  give  me  any  credit  about  it,"  Ingram 
said.  "I  stumbled  against  her  by  accident:  at  least,  I  did 
not  find  her  out  myself." 

**  Did  she  send  for  you  ?" 

"  No.  But  look  here.  Lavender,  this  sort  of  cross-examina- 
tion will  lead  to  but  one  thing;  and  you  say  yourself  you 
won't  try  to  find  out  where  she  is." 

"  Not  from  you,  any  way.  But  how  can  I  help  wanting  to 
know  where  she  is?  And  my  aunt  was  saying  just  now  that 
very  likely  she  had  gone  right  away  to  the  other  end  of  Lon- 
don— to  Peckhara  or  some  such  place." 

''You  have  seen  Mrs.  Lavender,  then  ?" 

*'  I  have  just  come  from  there.     The  old  heath.en  thinks 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE,  353 

the  whole  affair  rather  a  good  joke;  but  perhaps  that  was 
only  her  way  of  showing  her  temper,  for  she  was  in  a  bit  of 
rage,  to  be  sure.     And  so  Sheila  sent  me  that  message  ?" 
♦'Yes." 

"Does  she  want  money?  Would  you  take  her  some 
money  from  me  ?"  he  said  eagerly.  Any  bond  of  union  be- 
tween him  and  Sheila  would  be  of  some  value. 

"I  don't  think  she  needs  money;  and  in  any  case  I  know 
she  wouldn't  take  it  from  you." 

"Well,  now,  Ingram,  you  have  seen  her  and  talked  v/ith 
her,  what  do  you  think  she  intends  to  do  ?  What  do  you 
think  she  would  have  me  do?" 

"  These  are  very  dangerous  questions  for  me  to  answer," 
Ingram  said.  "I  don't  see  how  you  can  expect  me  to  as- 
sume the  responsibility." 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  do  that  at  all.  But  I  never  found 
your  advice  to  fail.  And  if  you  give  me  any  hint  as  to  what 
I  should  do,  I  will  do  it  upon  my  own  responsibility." 

"Then  I  won't.  Bat  this  I  will  do;  I  will  tell  you  as 
nearly  as  ever  I  can  what  she  said,  and  you  can  judge  for 
yourself." 

Very  cautiously,  indeed,  did  Ingram  set  out  on  this  peril- 
ous underiaking.  It  was  no  easy  matter  so  to  shut  out  all 
references  to  Sheila's  surroundings  that  no  hint  should  be 
given  to  this  anxious  listener  as  to  her  whereabouts.  But 
Ingram  got  through  it  successfully;  and  when  he  had  finished 
Lavender  sat  some  time  in  silence,  merely  toying  with  his 
knife,  for,  indeed,  he  had  eaten  nothing.  "  If  it  is  her  wish," 
he  !^aid  slowly,  "  that  I  should  not  go  to  see  her,  I  Vvdil  try  to 
do  so.  But  I  should  like  to  know  where  she  is.  You  say  she 
is  comfortable,  and  she  has  Mairi  for  a  companion;  and  that 
is  something.     In  the  meantime  I  suppose  I  mubt  wait." 

"  I  don't  see,  myself,  how  waiting  is  likely  to  do  much 
good,"  said  Ingram.  "  That  won't  alter  your  relations 
much." 

"It  may  alter  her  determination.  A  woman  is  sure  to 
soften  into  charity  and  forgivene-s;  she  can't  help  ir." 

••  If  you  were  to  ask  Sheila  now,  she  would  say  she  had 
forgiven  you  already.  But  that  is  a  different  matter  from 
getting  her  to  resume  her  former  metliod  of  life  with  yv.n. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  should  strongly  advise  her,  if  I  were 
to  give  advice  at   all,  not   to  attempt  anything  of  the  sort. 


354  A    PRINCESS    OF    TnULE. 

One  failure  is  bad  enough,  and  has  wrought  sufficient 
trouble.'"' 

"  Then  what  am  I  to  do,  Ingram  ?"  . 

"  You  must  judge  for  yourself  what  is  the  most  likely  way 
of  winning  back  Sheila's  confidence  in  you,  and  the  most  likely 
conditions  under  which  she  might  be  induced  to  join  you 
again.  You  need  not  expect  to  get  her  back  into  that  square, 
I  should  fancy  ;    thai  expenment  has  ratlier  brokea  down." 

"  Well,"  said  Lavender,  "  I  shan't  bore  you  any  more  just 
now  about  my  affairs.  Look  after  your  dinner,  old  fellov/  ; 
your  starving  yourself  won't  help  me  much." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  starve  myself  at  all,"  said  Ingram,  stead- 
ily making  his  way  through  the  abundant  dishes  his  friend 
had  ordered.  "  But  I  had  a  very  good  luncheon  this  morn- 
ing with — " 

"With  Sheila,''  Lavender  said,  quickly. 

"  Yes.  Does  it  surprise  you  to  find  that  she  is  in  a  place 
where  slie  can  get  food?  I  wish  the  poor  child  had  made 
better  use  of  her  opportunities." 

"Ingram,"  he  said,  after  a  minute,  "  could  you  take  some 
money  from  me,  without  her  knowing  of  it,  and  try  to  get 
her  some  of  the  little  things  she  likes — some  delicacies,  you 
know;  they  might  be  smuggled  in,  as  it  were,  without  her 
knowing  who  paid  for  them?  There  was  ice-pudding,  you 
know,  with  strawberries  in  it,  that  she  was  fond  of — " 

*•  My  dear  fellow,  a  woman  in  her  position  thinks  of  some- 
thing else  than  ice-pudding  in  strawberries." 

"  But  why  shouldn't  she  have  it  all  the  same?  I  would 
give  twenty  pounds  to  get  some  little  gratificatioiT  of  that 
sort  conveyed  to  her;  and  if  you  could  try,  Ingram — '' 

"  My  dear  fellow,  she  has  got  everything  she  can  v/ant; 
there  was  no  ice-pudding  at  luncheon,  but  doubtless  there 
will  be  at  dinner," 

So  Sheila  was  staying  in  a  house  in  which  ices  could  be 
prepared  ?  Lavender's  suggestion  had  had  no  cunning  in- 
tention in  it,  but  here  was  an  obvious  piece  of  information. 
Siie  was  in  no  humble  lodging-house,  then.  She  was  either 
staying  with  some  friends — and  she  had  no  friend  but  Laven- 
der's friends — or  she  v/as  staying  at  a  hotel.  He  remem- 
bered that  she  had  once  dined  at  the  Langham,  Mrs.  Kav- 
anagh  having  persuaded  her  to  go  to  meet  some  Amer.can 
visitors.     Might  she  have  gone  thither  ? 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE,  355 

Lavender  was  somewhat  cilent  during  the  rest  of  that  meal, 
for  he  was  thinking  of  other  things  besides  the  mere  question 
as  to  where  Sheila  might  be  staying.  He  was  trying  to  imag- 
ine what  she  might  have  felt  before  she  was  driven  to  this 
step.  He  was  trying  to  recall  all  manner  of  incidents  of 
their  daily  life  that  he  now  saw  might  have  appeared  to  her 
in  a  very  different  light  from  that  in  which  he  saw  them.  He 
was  wondering,  too,  how  all  this  could  be  altered,  and  a  new 
life  begun  for  them  both,  if  that  were  still  possible. 

They  had  gone  up  stairs  into  the  smoking-room  when  a  card 
was  brought  to  Lavender. 

"Young  Mosenberg  is  below,"  he  said  to  Ingram.  "He 
will  be  a  livelier  companion  for  you  than  I  could  be.  Waiter, 
a^k  this  gentleman  to  come  up." 

The  handsome  Jew  boy  came  eagerly  into  the  room,  with 
much  excitement  visible  on  his  face. 

"  Oh,  do  you  know,"  he  said  to  Lavender,  "I  have  found 
out  where  Mrs.  Lavender  is — yes.  She  is  at  your  aunt's 
house  I  saw  her  th's  afternoon  for  one  moment — '  He 
stopped,  for  he  saw  by  the  vexation  on  Ingram's  face  that  he 
had  done  something  wrong.  "Is  it  a  mistake?''  he  said. 
"Is  it  a  secret?" 

"  It  is  not  likely  to  be  a  secret  if  you  have  got  hold  of  it," 
said  Ingram,  sharply. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  j-aid  the  boy.  "  I  thought  you  were 
all  anxious  to  know — " 

"  It  does  not  matter  in  the  least,"  said  Lavender  quietly  to 
both  of  them.  "  I  shall  not  seek  to  disturb  her.  I  am  about 
to  leave  London." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  don't  know  yet," 

That,  at  least,  had  been  part  of  the  result  of  his  medi- 
tations; and  Ingram,  looking  at  him,  wondered  whether  he 
meant  to  go  away  without  trying  to  say   one  word  to  Sheila. 

"  Look  here.  Lavender,"  he  said,  "you  must  not  fancy 
we  were  trying  to  play  any  useless  and  impertinent  trick. 
To-morrow  or  next  day  Sheila  will  leave  your  aunt's  house, 
and  then  I  should  have  told  you  that  she  had  been  there, 
and  how  the  old  lady  received  her.  It  was  Sheila's  own 
wish  that  the  lodgings  she  is  going  to  should  not  be  known, 
She  fancies  that  would  save  both  of  you  a  great  deal  of 
unnecessary  and  fruitless   pain,  do   you   see?     That   real.y 


350  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

is  her  only  object  in  wishing  to  have  any  concealment  about 
the  matter." 

"But  there  is  no  need  of  any  such  concealment,"  he 
said.  "  You  may  tell  Sheila  that  if  she  likes  to  stay  on 
with  my  aunt,  so  much  the  better;  and  I  take  it  very  kind 
of  her  that  she  went  there,  instead  of  going  home  or  to  a 
strange  house.'' 

"  Am  I  to  tell  her  that  you  mean  to  leave  London  ?" 

"  Yes." 

They  went  into  the  billiard-room.  Mosenberg  was  not 
permitted  to  play,  as  he  had  not  dined  in  the  club,  but 
Ingram  and  Lavender  proceeded  to  have  a  game,  the  former 
being  content  to  accept  something  like  thirty  in  a  hundred. 
It  was  speedily  very  clear  that  La-zender's  heart  M^as  not  in 
the  contest.  He  kept  forgetting  which  ball  he  had  been  play- 
ing, mirsing  easy  shots,  playing  a  perversely  wrong  game, 
and  so  forth.      And  yet  liis  spirits  were  not  much  downcast. 

"  Is  Peter  Hewetson  still  at  Tarbert,  do  you  know?''  he 
asked  of  Ingram. 

"  I  believe  so.  I  heard  of  him  lately.  He  and  one  or  two 
more  are  there." 

"  I  suppose  you'll  look  in  on  them  if  you  go  Norih?" 

"Certainly.  The  place  is  badly  perfumed,  but  pictur- 
esque, and  there  is  generally  plenty  of  whisky  about.'' 

"  When  do  you  go  North  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.    In  a  week  or  two." 

That  was  all  Lavender  hinted  of  his  plans.  He  Avent  home 
early  that  night,  and  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  packing  up 
some  things,  and  in  writing  a  long  letter  to  his  aunt,  which 
was  destined  considerably  to  astonish  that  lady.  Then  he 
lay  down  and  had  a  few  hours'  rest. 

In  the  early  morning  he  went  out  and  walked  across  Ken- 
sington Gardens  down  to  the  Gore.  He  wished  to  have  one 
look  at  the  house  in  which  Sheila  was,  or  perhaps  he  might, 
from  a  distance,  see  her  come  out  on  a  simple  errand?  He 
knew,  for  example,  that  she  had  a  superstitious  liking  for 
posting  her  letters  herself;  in  wet  weather  or  dry,  she  in- 
variably carried  her  own  correspondence  to  the  nearest  pillar- 
post.  Perhaps  he  might  have  one  glimpse  at  her  face,  to  see 
how  she  was  looking,  before  he  left  London. 

There  were  few  people  about;  one  or  two  well-known  law- 
yers and  merchants  were  riding  by  to  have  their  mornino- 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  357 

canter  in  the  Park;  the  shops  were  being  opened.  Over 
there  was  the  house — with  its  dark  front  of  bricks,  i's  hard 
ivy,  and  its  small  windows  with  formal  red  curtains — in 
which  Sheila  was  immured.  That  was  certainly  not  the 
palace  that  a  beautiful  sea-princess  should  have  inhabited. 
Where  were  the  pine  woods  around  it,  and  the  lofty  hills,  and 
the  wild  beating  of  the  waves  on  the  sands  below!  And  now 
it  seemed  strange  and  sad  that  just  as  he  was  about  to  go 
away  to  the  North,  and  breathe  the  salt  air  again,  and  find 
the  strong  West  winds  blowing  across  the  mountain  peaks 
and  thiuogh  the  furze,  Sheila,  a  daughter  of  the  sea  and  the 
rocks,  should  be  hiding  herself  in  obscure  lodgings  in  the 
heart  of  the  great  ci^y.  Perhaps — he  could  not  but  think  at 
this  time — if  he  had  only  the  chance  of  speaking  to  her  for  a 
couple  of  moments,  he  could  persuade  her  to  forgive  him 
everything  that  had  happened,  and  go  away  with  him — away 
from  London  and  all  the  associations  that  had  vexed  her 
and  almost  broken  her  heart — to  the  free,  and  open,  and 
joyous  life  on  the  far  sea  coasts  of  the  Hebrides. 

Something  caused  him  to  turn  his  head  for  a  second,  and 
he  knew  that  Sheila  was  coming  along  the  pavement — not 
from,  but  towards  the  house.  It  was  too  late  to  think  of 
getting  out  of  her  way,  and  yet  he  dared  not  go  up  to  her 
and  speak  to  her,  as  he  had  wished  to  do.  She,  too,  had 
seen  him.  There  was  a  quick,  frightened  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  then  she  came  along,  with  her  face  pale  and  her  head 
downcast.  He  did  not  seek  to  interrupt  her.  His  eyes,  toe, 
were  lowered  as  she  passed  him  without  taking  any  notice  of 
his  presence,  although  the  sad  face  and  the  troubled  lips  told 
of  the  pain  at  her  heart.  He  had  hoped,  perchance,  for  one 
word,  for  even  a  sign  of  recognition,  but  she  went  by  him 
calmly,  gravely  and  silently.  She  went  into  the  house  and 
he  turned  away  with  a  weight  at  his  heart,  as  though  the 
gates  of  heaven  had  been  closed  against  him. 


.358  A    PRINCESS    OF    TliULS. 


PART  X. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

"like     HADRIANUS    and     AUGUSTUS." 

The  island  of  Borva  lay  warm  and  green  and  bright  undei 
a  blue  sky;  there  were  no  white  curls  of  foam  on  Loch 
Roag,  but  only  the  long  Atlantic  swell  coming  in  to  fall  on 
the  white  beach;  away  over  there  in  the  South  the  fine  grays 
and  purples  of  the  giant  Suainabhal  shone  in  the  sunlight 
amid  the  clear  air;  and  the  beautiful  sea-pyots  flew  about  the 
rocks,  their  screaming  being  the  only  sound  audible  in  the 
stillness.  The  King  of  Borva  was  down  by  the  shore,  seated 
on  a  stool,  and  engaged  in  the  idyllic  operation  of  painting 
a  boat  which  had  been  hauled  up  on  the  sand.  It  was  the 
Maighdean-mhara.  He  would  let  no  one  else  on  the  island 
touch  Sheila's  boat.  Duncan,  it  is  true,  was  permitted  to 
keep  her  masts  and  sails  and  seats  sound  and  white,  but  as 
for  the  decorative  painting  of  the  small  craft — including  a 
little  bit  of  amateur  gilding — that  was  the  exclusive  right  of 
Mr.  Mackenzie  himself.  For,  of  course,  the  old  man  said 
to  himself,  Sheila  was  coming  back  to  Borva  one  of  these 
days,  and  she  would  be  proud  to  find  her  own  boat  bright 
and  sound.  If  she  and  her  husband  should  resolve  to  spend 
half  the  year  in  Stornoway,  would  not  the  small  craft  be  of 
use  to  her  there?  and  sure  he  was  that  a  prettier  little  vessel 
never  entered  Stornoway  Bay.  Mr.  Mackenzie  was  at  this 
moment  engaged  in  putting  a  thin  line  of  green  around  the 
white  buhvarks  that  might  have  been  distinguished  across 
Loch  Roag,  so  keen  and  pure  was  the  color. 

A  much  heavier  boa-,  broad-beamed,  red-hulled  and  brown- 
sailed,  was  slowly  coming  around  the  point  at  this  moment. 
I\Ir.  Mackenzie  raised  his  eyes  from  his  work,  and  knew  that 
Duncan  was  coming  back  from  Callernish.  Some  few  minutes 
thereafter  the  boat  was  run  into  her  moorings,  and  Duncan 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  359 

came  along  the  beach  with  a  parcel  in  his  hand.  "  Here  wass 
your  letters,  sir,"  he  said.  "  And  there  iss  one  of  them  will 
be  from  Miss  Sheila,  if  I  wass  make  no  mistake." 

He  remained  there.  Duncan  generally  knew  pretty  well 
when  a  letter  from  Sheila  was  among  the  documents  he  had 
to  deliver,  and  on  such  an  occasion  he  mvariably  lingered 
about  to  hear  the  news,  which  was  immediately  spread 
abroad  throuo^hout  the  island.  The  old  King  of  Borva  was 
not  a  garrulous  man,  but  he  was  glad  that  the  people  about 
him  should  know  that  his  Sheila  had  become  a  fine  lady  in 
the  South,  and  saw  fine  things  and  wenc  among  fine  people. 
Perhaps  this  notion  of  his  was  a  sort  of  apology  to  them — • 
perhaps  it  was  an  apology  to  himself — for  his  having  let  her 
go  away  from  the  island;  but  at  all  events  the  simple  folks 
about  Borva  knew  that  Miss  Sheila,  as  they  still  invariably 
called  her,  lived  in  the  same  town  as  the  queen  herself,  and 
saw  many  lords  and  ladies,  and  was  present  at  great  festivities, 
as  became  Mr.  Mackenzie's  only  daughter.  And  naturally 
these  rumors  and  stories  were  exaggerated  by  the  kindly  in- 
terest and  affection  of  the  people  into  something  far  beyond 
what  Sheila's  father  intended;  insomuch  that  many  an  old 
crone  would  proudly  and  sagaciously  v/ag  her  head,  and  say 
that  when  Miss  Sheila  came  back  to  Borva  strange  things 
might  be  seen,  and  it  would  be  a  proud  day  for  Rlr.  Mac- 
kenzie if  he  was  to  go  down  to  the  shore  to  meet  Queen  Vic- 
toria herself,  and  the  princes  and  princesses,  and  many  fine 
people,  all  come  to  stay  at  his  house  and  have  great  rejoicings 
in  Borva. 

Thus  it  was  that  Duncan  invariably  lingered  about  when 
he  brought  a  letter  from  Sheila;  and  if  her  father  happened 
to  forget  or  be  pre-occupied,  Duncan  would  humbly  but 
firmly  remind  him.  On  this  occasion  Mr.  Mackenzie  put 
down  his  paint-brush  and  took  the  bundle  of  letters  and 
newspapers  Duncan  had  brought  him.  He  selected  that 
from  Sheila,  and  threw  the  others  on  the  beach  beside  him. 

There  was  really  no  news  in  the  letter.  Sheila  merely  said 
that  she  could  not  as  yet  answer  her  father's  question  as  to 
the  time  she  might  probably  visit  Lewis.  She  hoped  that  he 
was  well,  and  that,  if  she  could  not  get  up  to  Borva  that 
Autumn,  he  would  corne  South  to  London  for  a  time,  when 
the  hard  weather  set  in  in  the  North.  And  so  forth.  But 
there  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the  letter  that  struck  th; 


360  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

old  man  as  being  unusual  and  strange.  It  was  very  formal 
in  its  phraseology.  He  read  it  twice  over  very  carefully,  and 
forgot  altogether  that  Duncan  was  waiting.  Indeed,  he  was 
going  to  turn  away,  forgetting  his  work  and  the  other  letters 
that  still  lay  on  the  beach,  when  he  observed  that  there  was 
a  postscript  on  the  other  side  of  the  last  page.  It  merely 
said:  "  Will  you  please  address  your  letters  now  to  No.  — 
Pembroke  road,  South  Kensington,  where  I  may  be  for  some 
time?'' 

That  was  an  imprudent  postscript.  If  she  had  shown  the 
letter  to  any  one  she  would  have  been  warned  of  the  blunder 
she  was  committing.  Bat  the  child  had  not  much  cunning, 
and  wrote  and  posted  the  letter  in  the  belief  that  her  father 
would  simply  do  as  she  asked  him,  and  suspect  nothing  and 
ask  no  ques.ions. 

When  old  Mackenzie  read  that  postscript  he  could  only 
stare  at  the  paper  before  him. 

'•  Will  there  be  anything  wrong,  sir?"  said  the  tall  keeper, 
whose  keen  gray  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  his  master's  face. 

1  he  sound  of  Duncan's  voice  startled  and  recalled  Mr. 
Mackenzie,  who  immediately  turned,  and  said  lightly, 
"  Wrong  ?  What  v/ass  you  thinking  would  be  wrong  ?  Oh, 
there  is  nothing  wrong,  whatever.  But  Mairi,  she  will  be 
greatly  surprised,  and  she  is  going  to  write  no  letters  until  she 
comes  back  to  tell  you  what  she  has  seen ;  that  is  the  message 
there  will  be  for  Scarlett — she  is  very  well." 

Duncan  picked  up  the  other  letters  and  newspapers. 

"  You  may  tek  them  to  the  house,  Duncan,"  said  Mr. 
Mackenzie  ;  and  then  he  added  carelessly,  •'  Did  you  hear 
when  the  steamer  was  thinking  of  leaving  Stornoway  this 
night?" 

"  They  were  saying  it  would  be  seven  o'clock  or  six,  as 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  cargo  to  get  on  her." 

"Six  o'clock?  I  am  thinking,  Duncan,  I  would  like  to 
go  with  her  as  far  as  Oban  or  Glasgow.  Oh,  yes,  I  will  go 
with  her  as  far  as  Glasgow.  Be  sharp,  Duncan,  and  bring  ia 
the  boat." 

The  keeper  stared,  fearing  his  master  had  gone  mad. 
"  You  wass  going  with  her  this  ferry  night  ?" 

•*  Yes.  Be  sharp,  Duncan,"  said  Mackenzie,  doing  his 
best  to  conceal  his  impatience  and  determination  under  a 
careless  air. 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  36 1 

"But,  sir,  you  canna  do  it,"  said  Duncan,  peevishly. 
"  You  hef  no  things  looked  out  to  go.  And  by  the  time 
we  would  get  to  Callernish,  it  was  a  ferry  hard  drive,  there 
will  be  to  get  to  Stornoway  by  six  o'clock;  and  there  is  the 
mare,  sir,  she  will  hef  lost  a  shoe — " 

Mr.  Mackenzie's  diplomacy  gave  v/ay.  He  turned  upon 
his  keeper  with  a  sudden  fierceness  and  with  a  stamp  of  his 

foot;  '< you,  Duncan  MacDonald  !  is  it  you  or  me  that 

is  the  master?  I  will  go  to  Stornoway  this  ferry  moment  if 
I  hef  to  buy  twenty  horses  !"  And  there  was  a  light  under 
the  shaggy  eyebrows  that  warned  Duncan  to  have  done  with 
his  remonstrances. 

"  Oh,  ferry  well,  sir — ferry  well,  sir,"  he  said,  going  off  to 
the  boat,  and  grumbling  as  he  went.  "If  Miss  Sheila  was 
here,  it  would  be  no  going  away  to  Glesca  without  any  things 
wis  you,  as  if  you  wass  a  poor  traffelin  tailor  that  hass  nothing 
in  the  world  but  a  needle  and  a  thimble  mirover.  And  what 
will  the  people  in  Styornoway  hef  to  say,  and  sa  captain  of 
sa  steamboat,  and  Scarlett  ?  I  will  hef  no  peace  from  Scar- 
lett if  you  was  going  away  like  this.  Ahd  as  for  sa  sweerin, 
it  is  no  use  sa  sweerin,  for  I  will  get  sa  boat  ready — oh,  yes, 
I  will  get  sa  b-^at  ready;  but  I  do  not  understand  why  I  will 
get  sa  boat  ready,'' 

By  this  time,  indeed,  he  had  got  along  to  the  larger  boat, 
and  his  grumblings  were  inaudible  to  the  object  of  them. 
Mr.  Mackenzie  went  to  the  small  landing-place  and  waited. 
When  he  got  into  the  boat  and  sat  down  in  the  stern,  taking 
the  tiller  in  his  right  hand,  he  still  held  Sheila'3  letter  in  tlie 
other  hand,  although  he  did  not  need  to  re-read  it. 

They  sailed  out  into  the  blue  waters  of  the  loch  and 
rounded  the  point  of  the  island  in  absolute  silence.  Duncan 
meanwhile  being  both  sulky  and  curious.  He  could  not 
make  out  why  his  master  should  so  suddenly  leave  the  island, 
without  informing  any  one,  without  even  taking  with  him 
that  tall  and  roughly-furred  black  hat  which  he  sometimes 
wore  on  important  occasions.  Yet  there  was  a  letter  in  hi? 
hand,  and  it  was  a  letter  from  Miss  Sheila.  Was  the  news 
about  Mairi,  the  only  news  in  it? 

Duncan  kept  looking  ahead  to  see  that  the  boat  was  steer- 
ing her  right  course  for  the  Narrows,  and  was  anxious,  now 
that  he  harl  started,  to  make  the  voyage  in  the  least  possih:e 
time,  but  all  the  same  his  eyes  v/ould  come  back  t )  Mr.  Mac- 


362  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

kenzie,  who  sat  very  much  absorbed,  steering  almost  mechan- 
cally,  seldom  looking  ahead,  but  instinctively  guessing  his 
course  by  the  outlines  of  the  shore  close  by.  "Was  there 
any  bad  news,  sir,  from  Miss  Sheila?"  he  was  compelled  to 
say,  at  last. 

"  Miss  Sheila!"  said  Mr.  Mackenzie,  impatiently.  '*  Is  it  an 
infant  you  are  that  you  will  call  a  married  woman  by  such  a 
name?" 

Duncan  had  never  been  checked  before  for  a  habit  which 
wjs  common  to  the  v/hole  Island  of  Borva. 

"There  iss  no  bad  news,"  continued  Mackenzie,  impa- 
tiently. "Is  it  a  story  you  would  like  to  tek  back  to  the 
people  of  Borvapost  ?" 

"  It  wass  no  thought  of  such  a  thing  wass  come  into  my 
head,  sir,''  said  Duncan.  "There  iss  no  one  insa  island  would 
like  to  carry  bad  news  about  Miss  Sheila;  and  there  iss  no 
one  in  sa  island  would  like  to  hear  it — not  any  one  whatever — 
and  I  can  answer  for  that." 

"  Then  hold  your  tongue  about  it.  There  is  no  bad  news 
from  Sheila,"  said  Mackenzie;  and  Duncan  relapsed  into 
silence,  not  very  well  content. 

By  dint  of  very  hard  driving,  indeed,  Mr.  Mackenzie  just 
caught  the  boat  as  she  was  leaving  Stornoway  harbor,  the 
hurry  he  was  in  fortunately  saving  him  from  the  curiosity  and 
inquiries  of  the  people  he  knew  on  the  pier.  As  for  the 
frank  and  good-natured  captain,  he  did  not  show  that  exces- 
sive interest  in  jNIr.  Mackenzie's  affairs  that  Duncan  had 
feared;  but  when  the  steamer  was  v/ell  away  from  the  coast, 
and  bearing  down  on  her  route  to  Skye,  he  came  and  had  a 
chat  with  the  King  of  Borva  about  the  condition  of  affairs 
on  the  West  of  the  island;  and  he  was  good  enough  to  ask, 
too,  about  the  young  lady  that  had  married  the  English  gen- 
tleman. Mr.  Mackenzie  said  briefly  that  she  was  very  well, 
and  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  fishing. 

It  was  on  a  wet  and  dreary  morning  that  Mr.  Mackenzie 
arrived  in  London;  and  as  he  was  slowly  driven  through  the 
long  and  dismal  thoroughfares  with  their  gray  and  melan- 
choly houses,  their  passers-by  under  umbrellas,  and  their 
smoke  and  drizzle  and  dirt,  he  could  not  help  saying  to  him- 
self: "  My  poor  Sheila!"  It  was  not  a  pleasant  place  surely 
to  live  in  always,  although  it  might  be  all  very  well  for  a  visit. 
Indeed,  the  cheerless  day  added  to  the  gloomy  forebodings  in 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  363 

his  mind,  and  it  needed  all  his  resolve  and  his  pride  in  his 
own  diplomacy  to  carry  out  his  plan  of  approaching  Sheila. 

When  he  got  down  to  Pembroke  Road  he  stopped  the  cab 
at  the  corner  and  paid  the  man.  Then  he  walked  along  the 
thoroughfare,  having  a  look  at  ihe  houses.  At  length  he  came 
to  the  number  mentioned  in  Sheila's  letter,  and  he  found 
that  there  was  a  brass  plate  on  the  door  bearing  an  unfamiliar 
name.     His  suspicions  were  confirmed. 

He  went  up  the  steps  and  knocked;  a  small  girl  an- 
swered the  summons.  "  Is  Mrs.  Lavender  living  here?"  he 
said. 

She  looked  for  a  moment  with  some  surprise  at  the  short, 
thick-set  man,  with  his  sailor  costume,  his  peaked  cap,  and 
his  voluminous  gray  beard  and  shaggy  eyebrows;  and  then 
she  said  that  she  would  ask,  and  what  was  his  name?  But 
Mr.  Mackenzie  was  too  sharp  not  to  know  what  that  meant. 

"  I  am  her  father.  It  will  do  ferry  well  if  you  will  show 
me  the  room." 

And  he  stepped  inside.  The  small  girl  obediently  shut 
the  door,  and  then  led  the  way  up-stairs.  The  next  minute 
Mr.  Mackenzie  had  entered  the  room,  and  there  before  him 
was  Sheila,  bending  over  Mairi  and  teaching  her  how  to  do 
some  fancy-work. 

The  girl  looked  up  on  hearing  some  one  enter,  and  then, 
when  she  suddenly  saw  her  father  there,  she  uttered  a  slight 
cry  of  alarm  and  shrunk  back.  If  he  had  been  less  intent 
on  his  own  plans  he  would  have  been  amazed  and  pained  by 
this  action  on  the  part  of  his  daughter,  who  used  to  run  to 
him,  on  great  occasions  and  small,  whenever  she  saw  him; 
but  the  girl  had  for  the  last  few  days  been  so  habitually 
schooling  herself  into  the  notion  that  she  was  keeping  a  se- 
cret from  him — she  had  become  so  deeply  conscious  of  the 
concealment  intended  in  that  brief  letter — that  she  instinct- 
ively shrank  from  him  when  he  suddenly  appeared.  It  was 
but  for  a  moment. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  came  forward  with  a  fine  assumption  of 
carelessness  and  shook  hands  with  Sheila  and  with  Mairi 
and  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mairi  !  And  are  you  ferry  well. 
Sheila?  And  you  will  not  expect  me  this  morning;  but 
when  a  man  will  not  pay  you  what  he  wass  owing,  it  wass  no 
good  letting  it  go  on  in  that  way;  and  I  hef  come  to  Lon- 
don— ■' 


364  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

He  shook  the  rain-drops  from  his  cap,  and  was  a  little 
embarrassed. 

"  Yes,  Ihef  come  to  London  to  have  the  account  settled 
up;  for  it  wass  no  good  letting  him  go  on  for  effer  and 
effer.     Ay,  and  how  are  you,  Sheila  ?" 

He  looked  about  the  room ;  he  would  not  look  at  her. 
She  stood  there  unable  to  speak,  and  with  her  face  grown 
wild  and  pale. 

"Ah,  it  wass  raining  hard  all  the  last  night,  and  there 
wass  a  good  deal  of  water  came  into  the  carriage;  and  it 
is  a  ferry  hard  bed  you  will  make  of  a  third-class  carriage. 
Ay,  it  wass  so.  And  this  a  new  house  you  will  hef, 
Sneila?" 

She  had  been  coming  nearer  to  him,  with  her  face 
down  and  the  speechless  lips  trembling.  And  then  sud- 
denly, wiih  a  strange  sob,  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms 
and  hid  her  head,  and  burst  into  a  wild  fit  of  crying. 

"  Sheila,"  he  said,  "what  ails  you  ?  What  iss  all  the  mat- 
ter?" 

Mairi  had  covertly  got  out  of  the  room. 

"Oh,  papa,  I  have  left  him,"  the  girl  cried. 

"  Ay,"  said  her  father,  quite  cheerfully — "  oh,  ay,  I 
thought  there  was  some  little  thing  wrong  when  your  letter 
wass  come  to  us  the  other  day.  But  it  is  no  use  making  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  about  it,  Sheila,  for  it  is  easy  to  have 
all  those  things  put  right  again — oh,  yes,  ferry  easy.  And 
you  have  left  your  own  home,  Sheila?  And  where  is  Mr. 
Lavender?'' 

"  Oh,  papa,'''  she  cried,  "  you  must  not  try  to  see  him. 
You  must  promise  not  to  go  to  see  him.  I  should  have  told 
you  everything  when  I  wrote,  but  I  thought  you  would  come 
up  and  blame  it  all  on  him,  and  I  think  it  is  I  who  am  to 
blame," 

"  But  I  do  not  want  to  blame  any  ono,''  said  her  father. 
"You  must  not  make  so  much  of  these  things,  Sheila.  It  is 
a  pity — ye'=!,  it  is  a  ferry  great  pity — your  husband  and  you 
will  hef  a  quarrel ;  but  it  iss  no  uncommon  thing  for  tliese 
troubles  to  happen,  and  I  am  coming  to  you  this  morning, 
not  to  make  any  more  trouble,  but  to  see  if  it  cannot  be 
put  right  again.  And  I  will  not  blame  any  one;  but  if  I 
A' ass  to  see  Mr.  Lavender  — " 

A  bitter  anger  had  filled  his  heart  from  the  moment  he  had 


A     PRINCESS    OF     IHULE.  365 

learned  how  matters  stood,  and  yet  he  was  talking  in  such  a 
bland,  matter-of-fact,  almost  cheerful  fashion  that  his  own 
daughter  was  imposed  upon,  and  began  to  grow  comforted. 
The  mere  fact  that  her  father  now  knew  all  her  troubles,  and 
was  not  disposed  to  take  a  very  gloomy  view  of  them,  was  of 
itself  a  great  relief  to  her.  And  she  was  greatly  pleased, 
too,  to  hear  her  father  speak  in  the  same  light  and  even 
friendly  fashion  of  her  husband.  She  had  dreaded  the  pos- 
sible results  of  her  writing  home  and  relating  what  had 
occurred.  She  knew  the  powerful  passion  of  which  this 
lonely  old  man  was  capable,  and  if  he  had  come  suddenly 
down  South  with  a  wild  desire  to  revenge  the  wrongs  of  his 
daughter,  what  might  not  have  happened? 

Sheila  sat  down,  and  wiih  averted  eyes  told  her  father  the 
whole  story,  ingenuously  making  all  possible  excuses  for  her 
husband,  and  intimating  strongly  that  the  more  she  looked 
over  the  history  of  the  past  time  the  more  she  was  convinced 
that  she  was  herself  to  blame.  It  was  but  natural  that  Mr. 
Lavender  should  like  to  live  in  the  manner  to  which  he  had 
been  accustomed.  She  had  tried  to  live  that  way>  too,  and 
the  failure  to  do  so  was  surely  her  fault.  He  had  been  very 
kind  to  her.  He  was  always  buying  her  new  dresses,  jewelry, 
and  what  not,  and  was  always  pleased  to  take  her  to  be 
amused  anywhere.  All  this  she  said,  and  a  great  deal  more; 
and  although  Mr.  Mackenzie  did  not  believe  the  half  of  it, 
he  did  not  say  so. 

**Ay,  ay.  Sheila,"  he  said,  cheerfully;  "but  if  everything 
was  right  like  that,  what  for  will  you  be  here  ?  ' 

'*  But  everything  was  not  right,  papa,"  the  girl  said,  s'il) 
with  her  eyes  cast  down.  "  I  could  not  live  any  longer  like 
that,  and  I  had  to  come  away.  That  is  my  fault,  and  I  could 
not  help  it.  And  there  was  a  misunderstanding  between  us 
about  Mairi's  visit — for  I  had  said  nothing  about  it — and  he 
was  surprised — and  he  had  some  friends  coming  to  see  us 
that  day — " 

"Oh,  well,  there  iss  no  great  harm  done — none  at  all," 
said  her  father,  lightly,  and,  perhaps,  beginning  to  think  that 
after  all  something  was  to  be  said  for  Lavender's  side  of  the 
'question.  "  And  you  will  not  suppose,  S:ieila,  that  I  am  com- 
irig  to  make  any  trouble  by  quarreling  with  any  one.  Ttiere 
are  some  men — oh,  yes,  there  are  ferry  many — that  would 
have  no  judgment  at  such  a  tim^',  and  they  would  think  onJy 


$66  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

about  their  daughter,  and  hef  no  regard  for  any  one  else, 
and  they  would  only  make  effery  one  angrier  than  before. 
But  you  will  tell  me,  Sheila,  where  Mr.  Lavender  is." 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said.  "And  I  am  anxious,  papa, 
you  should  not  go  to  see  him.  I  have  asked  you  to  promise 
that  to  please  me." 

He  hesitated.  There  were  not  many  things  he  could  refuse 
his  daughter,  but  he  was  not  sure  he  ought  to  yield  to  her  in 
this.  For  were  not  these  two  a  couple  of  foolish  young 
things,  who  wanted  an  experienced  and  cool  and  shrewd  per- 
son to  come  with  a  little  dexterous  management  and  arrange 
their  affairs  for  them  ? 

"  1  do  not  think  1  have  half  explained  the  difference  be- 
tween us,"  said  Sheila,  in  the  same  low  voice.  "  It  is  no 
passing  quarrel,  to  be  mended  up  and  forgotten;  it  is  noth- 
ing like  that.     You  must  leave  it  alone,  papa." 

"That  is  foolishness,  Sheila,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
little  impatience.  "  You  are  making  big  things  out  of  ferry 
little,  and  you  will  only  bring  trouble  to  yourself  How  do 
you  know  but  that  he  wishes  to  hef  all  this  misunderstanding 
removed,  and  hef  you  go  back  to  him  ?" 

"  I  know  that  he  wishes  that,"  she  said,*calmly. 

*'  And  you  speak  as  if  you  wass  in  great  trouble  here,  and 
yet  you  will  not  go  back  ?"  he  said,  in  great  surprise. 

"  Yes,  that  is  so,"  she  said.  "  There  is  no  use  in  my 
going  back  to  the  same  sort  of  life;  it  was  not  happiness  for 
either  of  us,  and  to  me  it  was  misery.  If  I  am  to  blame  for 
it,  that  is  only  a  misfortune." 

"But  if  you  will  not  go  back  to  him.  Sheila,"  her  father 
said,  '*  at  least  you  will  go  back  with  me  to  Borva." 

"1  cannot  do  that  either,"  said  the  girl,  with  the  same 
quiet  yet  decisive  manner. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  rose  with  an  impatient  gesture  and  v/alked 
to  the  windov/.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say.  He  was 
very  well  av/arj  that  when  Sheila  ha  I  resolved  upon  any- 
thing, she  had  thought  it  well  over  beforehand,  and  was  not 
likely  to  change  her  mind.  And  yet  the  notion  of  his 
daughter  living  in  lodgings  in  a  strange  town — her  only  com- 
panion a  young  girl  v.  ho  had  never  been  in  the  place  before 
— was  vexatiously  absurd. 

"Sheila,"  he  said,  "You  will  come  to  a  better  understand- 
ing about  that.     I  suppose  you  wass  afraid  the  people  would 


A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE.  367 

wonder  at  your  coming  back  alone.  But  they  will  know 
nothing  about  it.  Mairi  she  is  a  very  good  lass;  she  will  do 
anything  you  will  ask  of  her;  you  hef  no  need  to  think  she 
will  carry  stories.  And  every  one  wass  thinking  you  will  be 
coming  to  the  Lewis  this  year,  and  it  is  ferry  glad  they  will 
be  to  see  ycu  ;  and  if  the  house  at  Borvapost  hass  not  enough 
amuiement  for  you  after  you  hef  been  in  a  big  town  like  this, 
you  will  live  in  Stornoway  with  some  of  our  friends  there, 
and  you  will  come  over  to  Borva  when  you  please." 

"If  I  went  up  to  the  Lewis,"  said  Sheila,  "  do  you  think  I 
could  live  anywhere  but  in  Borva  ?  It  is  not  any  amuse- 
ments I  v/iil  be  thinking  about.  But  I  cannot  go  back  to 
the  Lewis  alone." 

.  Her  father  saw  how  the  pride  of  the  girl  had  driven  her  to 
this  decision,  and  saw,  too,  how  useless  it  was  for  him  to 
reason  with  her  just  at  the  present  moment.  Still,  there  was 
plenty  of  occasion  heie  for  the  use  of  a  little  diplomacy 
merely  to  smooth  the  way  for  the  reconciliation  of  husband 
end  \vife,  and  Mr.  Mackenzie  concluded  in  his  own  mind 
that  it  was  far  from  injudicious  to  allow  Sheila  to  convince 
herself  that  she  bore  part  of  the  blame  of  this  separation. 
For  example,  he  nov/  proposed  ihat  the  discussion  of  the 
whole  question  be  postponed  f  r  the  present,  and  that  Sheila 
should  take  him  about  London  and  show  him  all  that  she 
had  learned;  and  he  suggested  that  they  should  then  and 
there  get  a  hansom  cab  and  drive  to  some  exhibition  or  other. 

'*  A  hansom,  papa?''  said  Sheila.  "Mairi  must  go  with  us, 
you  know." 

This  was  precisely  what  he  had  angled  for,  and  he  said, 
with  a  show  of  impatience,  "  Mairi !  How  can  we  take  about 
Mairi  to  every  place  ?  Mairi  is  a  ferry  good  lass — oh,  yes — 
but  she  is  a  servant-lass." 

The  words  nearly  stuck  in  his  throat;  and  indeed  had  any 
other  addressed  such  a  phrase  to  one  of  his  kith  and  kin 
there  would  have  been  an  explosion  of  rage;  but  now  he  was 
determined  to  show  to  Sheila  that  her  husband  had  some 
cause  for  objecting  to  this  girl  silting  down  with  his 
friends. 

But  neither  husband  nor  father  could  make  Sheila  for- 
swear allegiance  to  what  her  own  heart  told  her  was  just  and 
honorable  and  generous;  and  indeed  her  father  was  not  dis- 
pleased lo  see  her  turn  around  on  himself  with  just  a  touch 


368  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

of  indignation  in  her  voice.  "Mairi  is  my  guest,  papa,"  she 
said.     "  It  is  not  like  you  to  think  of  leaving  her  at  home." 

"Oh,  itwass  of  no  consequence,"  said  old  Mackenzie, 
carelessly;  indeed  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  met  with  this 
rebuff.  "  Mairi  is  a  ferry  good  girl — oh,  yes — but  there  are 
many  who  would  not  forget  she  is  a  servant-lass,  and  v/culd 
not  like  to  be  always  taking  her  with  them.  And  you  hef 
lived  a  long  time  in  London  ?" 

*' I  have  not  lived  long  enough  in  London  to  make  me 
forget  my  friends,  or  insult  them,"  Shtila  said,  with  proud 
lips,  and  yet  turnin;^  to  the  window  to  hida  her  face. 

"  My  lass,  I  did  not  mean  any  harm  whatever,"  her  father 
said,  gently.  "I  wass  saying  nothing  against  Mairi.  Go 
away  and  bring  her  into  t-he  room,  Sheila,  and  we  will  see 
what  we  can  do  now,  and  if  there  is  a  theater  we  can  go  to 
this  evening.  And  I  must  go  out,  too,  to  buy  some  things; 
for  you  are  a  ferry  fine  lady  now,  Sheila,  and  I  was  coming 
away  in  such  a  hurry." 

"  Wheie  is  your  luggage,  papa?"  she  said,  suddenly. 

"Oh,  luggage!"  said  Mackenzie,  looking  around  in  great 
embarrassment.  "  It  was  luggage  you  said.  Sheila?  Ay, 
well,  it  wass  a  hurry  I  wass  in  when  I  came  away — for  this 
man  will  have  to  pay  me  at  once  whatever — and  there  wass 
no  time  for  any  luggage — oh,  no,  there  wass  no  lime,  because 
Duncan  he  Avass  late  with  the  boat,  and  the  mare  she  had  a 
shoe  to  put  on — and — and — oh,  no,  there  was  no  time  for 
any  luggage." 

"  But  what  was  Scarlett  about  to  let  you  come  away  like 
that  ?"  said  Sheiia. 

"Scarlett?  Well,  Scarlett  did  not  know;  it  was  all  in 
such  a  hurry.  Now  go  and  bring  in  Mairi,  Sheila,  and  we 
will  speak  about  the  theatre." 

But  there  was  to  be  no  theatre  for  any  of  them  that  even- 
ing. Sheila  was  just  about  to  leave  the  room  to  summon 
Mairi,  when  the  small  girl  who  had  let  Mackenzie  into  the 
house  appeared  and  said,  "  Please,  m'm,  there  is  a  young 
woman  below  who  wishes  to-see  you.  She  has  a  message  to 
you  from  Mr.--.  Paterson." 

"Mrs,  Paterson?"  Sheila  said,  wondering  how  Mrs. 
Lavender's  hench-woman  should  have  been  entrusted  w  tii 
any  such  commission.     '•  Will  you  please  ask  her  to  come  up?'" 

The  girl  came  up-stairs,  looking  rather  frightened  and  much 
out  of  breath. 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  369 

"Please,  m'm,  Mrs.  Paterson  has  sent  me  to  teil  you,  and 
would  you  please  come  as  soon  as  it  is  convenient  ?  Mrs. 
Lavender  has  died.  It  was  quite  sudden — only  she  recov- 
ered a  little  after  the  fit,  and  then  sank;  the  doctor  is  there 
now,  but  he  wasn't  in  time,  it  was  all  so  sudden.  Will  you 
please  come  around,  m'm  ?" 

"  Yes — I  sha'l  be  there  directly,"  said  Sheila,  too  bewil' 
dered  and  stunned  to  think  of  the  possibility  of  meeting  her 
husband  there. 

The  girl  left,  and  Sheila  still  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  apparently  stupefied.  That  old  woman  had  got  into 
such  a  habit  of  talking  about  her  approaching  death  that 
Sheila  had  ceased  to  believe  her,  and  had  grown  to  fancy 
that  these  morbid  speculations  were  indulged  in  chiefly  for 
the  sake  of  shocking  bystanders.  But  a  dead  man  or  a  dead 
womaa  is  suddenly  invested  with  a  great  solemnity;  and 
Sheila,  with  a  pang  of  remorse,  thought  of  the  fashion  in 
which  she  had  suspected  this  old  woman  of  a  godless  hy- 
pocrisy. She  felt,  too,  that  she  had  unjustly  disliked  Mrs. 
Lavender — that  she  had  feared  to  go  near  her,  and  blamed 
her  unfairly  for  many  things  that  had  happened.  In  her  own 
way  that  old  woman  in  Kensington  Gore  had  been  kind  to 
her;  perhaps  the  girl  was  a  little  ashamed  of  herself  at  this 
moment  that  she  did  not  cry. 

Her  father  went  out  with  her,  and  up  to  the  house  with 
the  dusty  ivy  and  the  red  curtains.  How  strangely  like  was 
the  aspect  of  the  house  inside  to  the  very  picture  that  Mrs. 
Lavender  had  herself  drawn  of  her  deatli  !  Sheila  could  re- 
member all  the  ghastly  details  that  the  old  woman  seemed  to 
have  a  malicious  delight  in  describing;  and  here  they  were — 
the  shutters  drawn  down,  the  servants  walking  about  on  t'p- 
toe,  the  strange  silence  in  one  particular  room.  The  little 
shriveled  old  body  lay  quite  still  and  calm  now;  and  yet  as 
Sheila  went  to  the  bedside,  she  could  hardly  believe  that 
within  that  forehead  there  was  not  some  consciousness  of  the 
scene  around.  Lying  almost  in  the  same  position,  the  old 
woman,  with  a  sardonic  smile  on  her  face,  had  spoken  of  the 
time  when  she  should  be  speechless,  sightless  and  deaf,  whih 
Paterson  would  go  about  stealthily  as  if  she  was  afraid  the 
corpse  would  hear.  Was  it  possible  to  believe  that  the  dead 
body  was  not  conscious  at  this  moment  that  Paterson  was 
really  going  about  in  that  fashion — that  the  blinds  were  down, 


370 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


friends  standing  some  little  distance  from  the  bed,  a  couple 
of  doctors  talking  to  each  other  in  the  passage  outside  ? 

They  went  into  another  room,  and  then  Sheila,  with  a 
sudden  shiver,  remembered  that  soon  her  husband  would  be 
coming,  and  might  meet  her  and  her  father  there. 

"  You  have  sent  for  Mr.  Lavender  ?"  she  said  calmly  to 
Mrs.  Paterson. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  Paterson  said  with  more  than  her  ordinary 
gravity  and  formality;  "  I  did  not  know  where  to  send  for 
him.  He  left  London  some  days  ago.  Perhaps  you  would 
read  the  letter,  ma'am?" 

She  offered  Sheila  an  open  letter.  The  girl  saw  that  it 
was  in  her  husband's  handwriting,  but  she  shrank  from  it  as 
though  she  were  violating  the  secrets  of  the  grave. 
"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  cannot  do  that." 
''  Mrs.  Lavender,  ma'am,  meant  you  to  read  it,  after  she 
had  had  her  will  altered.  She  told  me  so.  It  is  a  very  sad 
thing,  ma'am,  that  she  did  not  live  to  carry  out  her  inten- 
tions; for  she  has  been  inquiring,  ma'am,  these  last  few  days, 
as  to  how  she  could  leave  everything  to  you,  ma'am,  which 
she  intended;  and  now  the  other  will — " 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  that!"  said  Sheila.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  the  dead  body  in  the  other  room  would  be  laughing 
hideously,  if  only  it  could,  at  this  fulfillment  of  all  the  sar- 
donic prophecies  that  Mrs.  Lavender  used  to  make. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  Paterson  said,  in  the  same 
formal  way,  as  if  she  was  a  machine  set  to  work  in  a  particu- 
lar direction.  "I  only  mentioned  tlie  will  to  explain  why 
Mrs.  Lavender  wished  you  to  read  this  letter." 
"Read  the  letter.  Sheila,"  said  her  father. 
Tne  girl  took  it  and  carried  it  to  the  window.  While  she 
was  there,  old  Mackenzie,  who  had  fewer  scrup'es  about 
such  matters,  and  who  had  the  curiosity  natural  to  a  man  of 
the  world,  said  to  Mrs.  Paterson — not  loud  enough  for  Sheila 
to  overhear—"  I  suppose,  then,  the  poor  old  lady  has  left  her 
property  to  her  nephew?"' 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Paterson,  somewhat  sadly,  for  she 

fancied  she  was  the  bearer  of  bad  news.     "  She  had  a  will 

drawn  out  only  a  short  time  ago,  and  nearly  everything  is 

left  to  Mr.  Ingram.'' 

"  To  Mr.  Incram  ?" 

"Yes,"  said'the  woman,  amazed  to  see  that  Mackenzie's 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  37 1 

face,  so  far  from  evincing  displeasure,  seemed  to  be  as  de- 
lighted as  it  was  surprised. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Paterson,  "  I  was  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses. But  Mrs.  Lavender  changed  her  mind,  and  was  very 
anxious  that  everything  should  go  to  your  daughter,  if  it 
could  be  done;  and  Mr.  Appleyard,  sir,  was  to  come  here  to- 
morrow forenoon." 

"  And  has  Mr.  Lavender  got  no  money  whatever  ?"  said 
Sheila's  father,  with  an  air  that  convinced  Mrs.  Paterson  that 
he  was  a  revengeful  man,  and  was  glad  his  son-in-law  should 
be  so  severely  punished. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  she  replied,  careful  not  to  go  beyond 
her  own  sphere. 

Sheila  came  back  from  the  window.  She  had  taken  a 
long  time  to  read  and  ponder  over  that  letter,  though  it  was 
not  a  lengthy  one.  This  was  what  Frank  Lavender  had 
written  to  his  aunt; 

"  My  Dear  Aunt  Lavender — I  suppose  when  you  read 
this  you  will  think  I  am  in  a  bad  temper  because  of  what  you 
said  to  me.  It  is  not  so.  But  I  am  leaving  London,  and 
I  wish  to  hand  over  to  you,  before  I  go,  the  charge  of  my 
house,  and  to  ask  you  take  possession  of  everything  in  it 
that  does  not  belong  to  Sheila.  These  things  are  yours, 
as  you  know,  and  1  have  to  thank  you  very  much  for  the 
loan  of  them.  I  have  to  thank  you  for  the  far  too  liberal 
allowance  you  have  made  me  for  many  years  back.  Will 
you  think  I  have  gone  mad  if  I  ask  you  to  stop  that  now? 
The  fact  is,  I  am  going  to  have  a  try  at  earning  something, 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing;  and  to  make  the  experiment  sat- 
isfactory, I  start  to-morrow  morning  for  a  district  in  the 
West  Highlands,  where  the  most  ingenious  fellow  I  know 
couldn't  get  a  penny  loaf  on  credit.  You  have  been  very 
good  to  me.  Aunt  Lavender:  I  wish  I  had  made  better  use 
of  your  kindness.  So  good-bye  just  now,  and  if  ever  I  come 
back  to  London  again,  I  shall  call  on  you  and  thank  you  in 
person. 

"  I  am  your  affectionate  nephew, 

"  Frank  Lavender," 

So  far  the  letter  was  almost  business-like.  There  was 
no  reference  to  the  causes  which  were  sending  him  away 
from  London,  and  which  had  already  driven  him  to  this  ex- 


372  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

traordinary  resolution  about  the  money  he  had  got  from  his 
aunt.  But  at  the  end  of  the  letter  there  was  a  brief  post- 
script, apparently  written  at  the  last  moment,  the  words  of 
which  were  these:  "Be  kind  to  Sheila.  Be  as  kind  to  her 
as  I  have  been  cruel  to  her.  In  going  away  from  her  I  feel 
as  though  I  were  exiled  by  man  and  forsaken  by  God." 

She  came  back  from  the  window, the  letter  in  her  hand. 

*•'  I  think  you  may  read  it,  too,  papa,"  she  said,  for  she  was 
anxious  that  her  father  shou'd  know  that  Lavender  had  vol- 
untarily surrendered  this  money  before  he  was  deprived  of  it. 
Then  she  went  back  to  the  window. 

The  slow  rain  fell  from  the  dismal  skies  on  the  pavemejit, 
and  the  railings  and  the  now  almost  leafless  trees.  The  at- 
mosphere was  filled  with  a  thin,  white  mist,  and  the  people 
going  by  were  hidden  under  umbrellas.  It  was  a  dreary  pic- 
ture enough;  and  yet  Sheiia  was  thinking  of  how  much 
drearier  such  a  day  would  be  on  some  lonely  coast  in  the 
North,  with  the  hills  obscured  behind  the  rain,  and  the  sea 
beating  hopelessly  on  the  sand.  She  thought  of  some  small 
and  damp  Highland  cottage,  with  narrow  windows,  a  smell  of 
wet  wood  about,  and  the  monotonous  drip  from  over  the 
door.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  stranger  there  would  be 
very  lonely,  not  knowing  the  ways  or  the  speech  of  the  sim- 
ple folk,  careless,  perhaps,  of  his  own  comfort,  and  only  lis- 
tening to  the  plashing  of  the  sea  and  the  incessant  rain  on  the 
bushes  and  on  the  pebbles  of  the  beach.  Was  there  any  pic- 
ture of  desolation,  she  thought,  like  that  of  a  sea  under  rain, 
with  a  slight  fog  obscuring  the  air,  and  with  no  wind  to  stir 
the  pulse  with  the  noise  of  waves?  And  if  Frank  Lavender 
had  only  gone  as  far  as  the  Western  Highlands,  and  was  liv- 
ing in  some  house  on  the  coast,  how  sad  and  still  the  Atlantic 
must  have  been  all  this  wet  forenoon,  with  the  islands  of  Co- 
lonsay  and  Oronsay  lying  remote  and  gray  and  misty  in  the 
far  and  desolate  plain  of  the  sea! 

'*  It  will  take  a  great  deal  of  respon-^ibility  from  me,  sir,'' 
Mrs.  Patterson  said  to  old  Mackenzie,  who  was  absently 
thinking  of  all  the  strange  possibilities  now  opening  out  be- 
fore him,  "if  you  will  tell  me  what  is  to  be  done.  Mrs. 
Lavender  had  no  relatives  in  London  except  her  nephew." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mackenzie,  waking  up — "oh,  yes,  we  will 
see  what  is  to  be  done.  There  will  be  the  boat  wanted  for 
the  funeral — ."     He  recalled  himself  with  an  impatient  ges- 


A    PKINCESS    OF     THULE.  373 

ture.  "Bless  me  f  he  said,  "what  was  I  saying?  You  mu-t 
ask  some  one  eUe — you  must  ask  Mr.  Ingram.  Hef  you  not 
sent  for  Mr.  Ingram  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  I  have  sent  to  him  ;  and  he  will  most  likely 
come  in  the  afternoon." 

"  Then  there  are  the  executors  mentioned  in  the  will — that 
wass  something  you  should  know  about — and  they  will  tell 
you  what  to  do.  As  for  me,  it  is  ferry  little  1  will  know 
about  such  things."' 

"  Perhaps  your  daughter,  sir,"  suggested  Mrs.  Paterson, 
"will  tell  me  what  she  thinks  should  be  done  with  the  rooms. 
And  as  for  luncheon,  sir,  if  you  would  wait — " 

"Oh,  my  daughter?"  said  Mr.  Mackenzie,  as  if  struck  by 
a  new  idea,  bat  determined,  all  the  same,  that  Sheila  should 
not  have  this  new  responsibility  thrust  on  her — "My  daugh- 
ter?— well,  you  was  saying,  mem,  that  my  daughter  v/ould 
help  you?  Oh,  yes,  bat  she  is  a  ferry  young  thing,  and 
you  was  saying  we  must  hef  luncheon  !  Oh,  ye-;,  but  we  will 
not  give  you  so  much  trouble,  and  we  hef  luncheon  ordered 
at  the  other  house  whatever,  and  there  is  the  yout>g  girl 
there  that  we  cannot  leave  all  by  herself.  And  you  *lief  a 
great  experience,  mem,  and  whatever  you  do,  that  will  be 
right;  do  not  have  any  fear  of  that.  And  I  will  come  around 
when  you  want  me — oh,  yes,  I  will  come  around  at  any 
time — but  my  daughter,  she  is  a  ferry  young  thing,  and  she 
would  be  ot  no  use  to  you  whatever — none  whatever.  And 
when  Mr.  Ingram  comes  you  will  send  him  around  to  the 
place  where  my  daughter  is,  for  we  will  v.rant  to  sea  him,  it 
he  has3  the  time  to  come.  Where  is  Shei — where  is  my 
daughter  ?" 

Siieila  had  quietly  left  the  room  and  stolen  into  the  silent 
chamber  in  wnich  the  dead  woman  lay.  They  found  her 
standing  close  by  the  bedside,  almost  in  a  trance. 

"  Sheili,"  said  her  father,  caking  her  hand,  "come  away 
now,  like  a  good  girl.  It  is  no  use  your  waiting  here;  and 
Mairi;  what  will  J^Iairi  be  doing?" 

She  suffered  herself  to  be  led  away,  and  they  went  home 
and  had  luncheon;  bat  the  girl  could  not  eat  for  the  notion 
that  somewhere  or  other  a  pair  of  eyes  were  looking  at  her, 
and  were  hideously  laughing  at  her,  as  if  to  remind  her  of 
the  prophecy  of  that  old  woman,  that  her  friends  wjuld  s'.t 
dov/n  to  a  comfortable  meal  and  begin  to  wonder  what  sort 
of  mourning  they  would  have. 


374  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

It  was  not  until  the  evening  that  Ingram  called.  He  had 
been  greatly  surprised  to  hear  from  Mrs.  Paterson  that  Mr. 
Mackenzie  had  been  there,  along  with  his  daughter;  and  he 
now  expected  to  find  the  old  King  of  Borva  in  a  towering 
passion.  He  found  him,  on  the  contrary,  a3  bland  and  as 
pleased  as  decency  would  admit  of,  in  view  of  the  tragedy 
that  had  occurred  in  the  morning;  and,  indeed,  as  Mackenzie 
had  never  seen  Mrs.  Lavender,  there  was  less  reason  why  he 
should  wear  the  outward  semblance  of  grief.  Sheila's  father 
asked  her  to  go  out  of  the  room  for  a  little  while;  and  when 
she  and  Mairi^had  gone,  he  said,  cheerfully,  "Well,  Mr. 
Ingram,  and  it  is  a  rich  man  you  are  at  last,'' 

"  Mrs.  Paterson  said  she  had  told  you,"  Ingram  said,  with 
a  shrug.  "You  never  expected  to  find  me  rich,  did  you?" 
"  Never,"  said  Mackenzie,  frankly.  ""  But  it  is  a  ferry  good 
thing — oh,  yes,  it  is  a  ferry  good  thing — to  hef  money  and 
be  independent  of  people.  And  you  will  make  a  good  use 
of  it,  I  know." 

*'  You  don't  seem  disposed,  sir,  to  regret'  that  Lavender 
has  been  robbed  of  what  should  have  belonged  to  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  Mackenzie,  gravely  and  cautiously, 
f-T  he  did  not  want  his  plans  to  be  displayed  prematurely. 
"  But  I  hef  no  quarrel  with  him;  so  you  will  not  think  I  am 
glad  to  hef  the  money  taken  away  for  that.  Oh,  no;  I  htf 
seen  a  great  many  men  and  women,  and  it  was  no  strange 
thing  that  these  two  young  ones,  living  all  by  themselves  m 
London,  should  hef  a  quarrel.  But  it  will  come  all  right 
again  if  we  do  not  make  too  much  about  it.  If  they  like  one 
another  they  will  soon  come  together  again,  tek  my  word  for 
it,  Mr.  Ingram;  and  I  hef  seen  a  great  many  men  and  women. 
And  as  for  the  money — well,  as  for  the  money,  I  hef  plenty  for 
my  Sheila,  and  she  will  not  starve  when  I  die — no,  nor  before 
that,  either ;  and  as  for  the  poor  old  woman  that  has  died,  I  am 
ferry  glad  she  left  her  money  to  one  that  will  make  a  good  use 
of  it,  and  will  not  throw  it  away  whatever.'' 

"  Oh,  but  you  know,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  you  are  congratu- 
lating me  without  cause.  I  will  tell  you  how  the  matter 
stands.  The  money  does  not  belong  to  me  at  all;  Mrs. 
Lavender  never  intended  it  should.  It  was  meant  to  so  to 
Sheila—" 

*'  Oh,  I  know,  I  know,"  said  Mr,  Mackenzie  w^ith  a  wave 
of  his  hand.     "  I  wass  hearing  all  that  from  the  woman  at 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  375 

the  house.  But  how  will  you  know  what  Mrs.  Lavender  in- 
tended ?  You  hef  only  that  woman's  story  for  it.  And  here 
is  the  will  and  you  hef  the  money,  and — and — "  Mackenzie 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  tlien  said  with  a  sudden  vehem- 
ence, "  — and,  by  Kott,  you  shall  keep  it !'' 

Ingram  was  a  trifle  startled.  "But  look  here,  sir,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  expostulation,  "  you  make  a  mistake. 
I  myself  know  Mrs.  Lavender's  intentions.  I  don't  go  by 
any  story  of  Mrs.  Paterson's.  Mrs.  Lavender  made  over  the 
money  to  me  with  the  express  injunctions  to  place  it  at  the 
disposal  of  Sheila  whenever  I  should  see  fit.  Oh,  there's  no 
mistake  about  it,  so  you  need  not  protest,  sir.  If  the  money 
belonged  to  me,  I  should  be  delighted  to  keep  it.  No  man 
in  the  country  more  desires  to  be  rich  than  I;  so  don't  fancy 
I  am  flinging  away  a  fortune  out  of  generosity.  If  any  rich 
and  kind-hearted  old  lady  will  send  me  five  thousand  or  ten 
thousand  pounds,  you  will  see  how  I  shall  stick  to  it.  But 
the  simple  truth  is,  this  money  is  not  mine  at  all.  It  was 
never  intended  to  be  mine.     It  belongs  to  Sheila." 

Ingram  talked  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  way;  the  old  man 
feared  \\hat  he  said  was  true. 

"  Ay,  it  is  a  ferry  good  story,"  said  Mackenzie,  cautiously, 
"and  maybe  it  is  all  true.  And  you  wass  saying  you  would 
like  to  hef  money  ?" 

*'  I  most  decidedly  should  like  to  have  money." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  old  man,  watching  his  friend's  face, 
"  there  is  no  one  to  say  that  the  story  is  true,  and  who  will  be- 
lieve it  ?  And  if  Sheila  wass  to  come  to  you  and  say  she  did 
not  believe  it,  and  she  would  not  have  t:ie  money  from  you, 
you  would  have  to  keep  it,  eh  ?" 

Ingram's  sallow  face  blushed  crimson. 

"  1  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  stiffly.  "  Do  you 
propose  to  pervert  the  girl's  rnind  and  make  me  a  party  to  a 
fraud  ?" 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  use  getting  into  an  anger,"  said  Macken- 
zie, suavely,  "when  common  sense  will  do  as  well  whatever. 
And  there  wass  no  perversion  and  there  wass  no  fraud  talked 
about.  It  wass  just  this,  Mr.  Ingrain,  that  if  the  old  lady's 
will  leaves  you  her  property,  who  will  you  be  getting  to  be- 
lieve that  she  did  not  mean  to  give  it  to  you  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  now  whom  she  meant  to  give  it  to,''  said  In- 
gram, still  somewhat  hotly. 


37 6  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

*'  Oh,  yes — oh,  yes,  that  iss  ferry  well.  But  who  will  be- 
lieve it  ?'* 

"Good  Heavens,  sir!  who  will  believe  I  could  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  fling  away  this  property  if  it  belongod  to  me?" 

"  They  will  think  you  a  fool  to  do  it  now — yes,  that  is  sure 
enough,"  said  Mackenzie. 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  think.  And  it  seems  rather  odd, 
Mr.  Mackenzie,  that  you  should  be  trying  to  deprive  your 
own  daughter  of  what  belongs  to  her." 

*'  Oh,  my  daughter  is  ferry  well  off  whatever;  she  does  not 
want  any  one's  money,"  said  Mackenzie,  And  then  a  new 
notion  struck  him;  "  Will  you  tell  me  this,  Mr.  Ingram?  If 
Mis.  Lavender  left  you  her  property  in  this  way,  v/hat  for 
did  she  want  to  change  her  will,  eh?'' 

*•  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  refused  to  take  the  respon- 
sibility. She  v/as  anxious  to  have  this  money  given  to  Shelia, 
so  that  Lavender  should  not  touch  it;  and  1  don't  think  it 
was  a  wise  intention,  for  there  is  not  a  prouder  man  in  the 
world  than  Lavender,  and  I  know  that  Sheila  would  not  con- 
sent to  hold  a  penny  that  did  not  equally  belong  to  him. 
However,  that  was  her  no'ion,  and  I  was  the  first  victim  of  it. 
I  protested  against  it  and  I  suppose  that  set  her  to  inquir- 
ing whether  the  money  could  not  be  absolutely  bequeathed 
to  Sheila  direct.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it  myself;  but 
that's  how  the  matter  stands,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"But  you  will  think  it  over,  Mr.  Ingram,"  said  Mackenzie, 
quietly — "  you  will  think  it  over,  and  be  in  no  hurry.  It  is 
not  every  man  that  haj  a  lot  of  money  given  to  him.  And 
it  is  no  wrong  to  my  Sheila  at  all,  for  she  wmII  have  quite 
plenty;  and  sLe  would  be  ferry  sor;y  to  take  the  money  away 
from  you,  that  is  sure  enough;  and  you  will  not  be  hasty, 
Mr.  Ingram,  but  be  cautious  and  reasonable,  and  you  will  see 
the  money  will  do  you  far  more  good  than  it  would  do 
Sheila„" 

Ingram  began  to  think  that  he  had  tied  a  millstone  around 
his  neck, 

CHAPTEPx.  XXIIL 

IN   EXILE. 

One  evening  in  the  olden  time  Lavender  and  Sheila  and 
I.  gra.n  and  old  Mackenzie  were  all  sitting  high  up  on  the 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  377 

rocks  near  Borvapost,  chatting  to  each  other,  and  watching 
the  red  light  pale  on  the  bosom  of  the  Atlantic  as  the  sun 
sank  behind  the  edge  of  the  world.  Ingram  wa5  smoking  a 
wooden  pipe.  Lavender  sat  with  Sheila's  hand  in  his.  The 
old  King  of  Borva  was  discoursing  of  the  fishing  populations 
around  the  Western  coasts,  and  their  various  ways  and 
habits. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  Tarbert,"  Lavender  was  saying, 
"but  the  lona  just  passed  the  mouth  of  the  little  harbor  as 
she  comes  up  Loch  Fine.  I  know  two  or  three  men  who  go 
there  every  year  to  paint  the  fishing-life  of  the  place.  It  is 
an  odd  little  place,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Tarbert?"'  said  Mr.  Mackenzie — "you  was  winting  to 
know  about  Tarbert  ?  Ah,  well,  it  is  a  better  place  now,  but 
a  year  or  two  ago  it  was  ferry  like  hell.  Oh,  yes,  it  was. 
Sheila,  so  you  need  not  say  anything.  And  this  v;ass  the 
way  of  it,  Mr.  Lavender,  that  the  trawling  was  not  made  legal 
then,  and  the  men  they  were  just  like  devils,  with  the  swear- 
ing and  the  drinking  and  the  fighting  that  went  on;  and  if 
you  went  into  the  harbor  in  the  open  day,  you  would  find 
them  drunk  and  fighting,  and  some  of  them  with  blood  on 
their  faces,  for  it  wass  a  ferry  wild  time.  It  wass  many  a 
one  will  say  that  the  Tarbert-men  would  run  dovv-n  the  police 
boat  some  dark  night.  And  what  was  the  use  of  catching 
the  trawlers  now  and  again,  and  taking  their  boats  and  their 
nets  to  be  sold  at  Greenock,  when  they  went  themselves 
over  to  Greenock  to  the  auction  and  brought  them  back  ? 
Oh,  it  was  a  great  deal  of  money  they  made  then:  I  hef  heard 
of  a  crew  of  eight  men  getting  thirty  pounds  each  man  in 
the  course  of  one  night,  and  that  not  seldom,  mirover," 

"  But  why  didn't  the  government  put  it  down?"  Lavender 
asked. 

''  Well,  you  see,"  ^Mackenzie  answered  with  the  air  of  a 
man  well  acquainted  with  the  difficulties  of  ruling — "you 
see  it  wass  not  quite  sure  that  the  trawling  did  much  harm  to 
the  fishing.  And  the  Jackal — that  was  the  government 
steamer — she  was  not  much  good  in  getting  the  better  of  the 
Tarbert-men,  who  are  ferry  good  with  their  boats  in  the  row- 
in"-,  and  are  very  cunning  whatever.  You  know,  the  buying 
boats  went  out  to  sea,  and  took  the  herring  there,  and  then 
the  trawlers  they  would  sink  their  nets  and  come  home  in  the 
morning  as  if  they  had  not  caught  one  fish,  although  the  boat 


37^  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

would  be  white  with  the  scales  of  the  herring.  And  what  is 
more,  sir,  the  government  knew  ferry  well  that  if  trawling 
was  put  down,  then  there  would  be  a  ferry  good  many 
murders;  for  the  Tarbert-raen,  when  they  came  home  to 
drink  whisky,  and  wash  the  whisky  down  with  porter,  they 
were  read}'  to  fight  anybody." 

"It  must  be  a  delightful  place  to  live  in,"  Lavender  said. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  ferry  different  now,"  Mackenzie  continued — 
"ferry  different.  The  men  they  are  nearly  all  Good  Tem- 
plars now,  and  there  is  no  drinking  whatever,  and  there  is 
reading-rooms  and  such  things,  and  the  place  is  ferry  quiet 
and  respectable." 

"I  hear,"  Ingram  r^^raarked,  "that  good  people  attribute 
the  change  to  moral  suasion,  and  that  wicked  people  put  it 
down  to  want  of  money." 

"  Papa,  this  boy  will  have  to  be  put  to  bed,"  Sheila  said. 

"Well,"  Mackenzie  ^answered,  "there  is  not  so  much 
money  in  the  place  as  there  wass  in  the  old  times.  The 
shopkeepers  do  not  make  so  much  money  as  before,  when 
the  men  were  wild  and  drunk  in  the  daytime,  and  had  plen- 
ty to  spend  when  tb.e  police-boat  did  not  catch  them.  But 
the  fishermen,  they  are  ferry  much  better  without  the  money; 
and  I  can  say  for  them,  Mr.  Lavender,  that  there  is  no  better 
fishermen  on  the  coast.  They  are  very  fine,  tall  men,  and 
they  are  ferry  well  dressed  in  their  blue  clothes,  and  they  are 
manly  fellows,  whether  they  are  drunk  or  w^hether  they  are 
sober.  Now  look  at  this,  sir,  that  in  the  worst  of  weather 
they  will  neffer  tek  whisky  with  them  when  they  go  out  to 
the  sea  at  night,  for  they  think  it  is  cowardly.  And  theyare 
ferry  fine  fellows,  and  gentlemanly  in  their  ways,  and  theyare 
ferry  good-natured  to  strangers." 

*'  I  have  heard  that  of  them  on  all  hands,"  Lavender  said, 
"'and  some  day  I  hope  to  put  their  civility  and  good-fellow- 
ship to  the  proof." 

That  was  merely  the  idle  conversation  of  a  summer  even- 
ing; no  one  paid  any  further  attention  to  it,  nor  did  even 
Lavender  himself  think  again  of  his  vaguely-expressed  hope 
of  some  day  visiting  Tarbert.  Let  us  now  shift  the  scene  of 
this  narrative  to  Tarbert  itself. 

When  you  pass  from  the  broad  and  blue  waters  of  Loch 
Fyne  into  the  narrow  and  rocky  channel  leading  into  Tar- 
bert harbor,  you  find  before  you   an   almost  circular  bay, 


A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  379 

around  which  stretches  an  irregular  line  of  white  houses. 
There  is  an  abundance  of  fishing-craft  in  the  harbor,  lying 
in  careless  and  picturesque  groups,  with  their  brown  hulls 
and  spars  sending  a  ruddy  reflection  down  on  the  lapping 
water,  which  is  green  under  the  shadow  of  each  boat.  Along 
the  shores  stand  the  tall  poles  on  which  the  fishermen  dry 
their  nets,  and  above  these,  on  the  summit  of  a  rocky  crag, 
rise  the  ruins  of  an  old  castle,  with  the  daylight  shining 
through  the  empty  windows. 

Beyond  the  houses,  again,  lie  successive  lines  of  hills,  at 
this  moment  lit  up  by  shafts  of  sunlight  that  lend  a  glowing 
warmth  and  richness  to  the  fine  colors  of  a  late  Autumn. 
The  hills  are  red  and  brown  with  rusted  bracken  and  heather, 
and  here  and  there  the  smooth  waters  of  the  bay  catch  a  tinge 
of  other  and  varied  hues.  In  one  of  the  fishing-smacks  that 
lie  almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  tall  crag  on  which  the 
castle  ruins  stand,  an  artist  has  put  a  rough-and  ready  easel, 
and  is  apparently  busy  at  work  painting  a  group  of  boats 
just  beyond.  Some  indication  of  the  rich  colors  of  the 
craft — their  ruddy  sails,  brown  nets  and  bladders,  and  their 
varnished  but  not  painted  hulls — already  appears  on  the 
canvas;  and  by  and  by  some  vision  may  arise  of  the  far  hills 
in  their  soft  Autumnal  tints,  and  of  the  bold  blue  and  white 
sky  moving  overhead.  Perhaps  the  old  man  who  is  smoking 
in  the  stern  of  one  of  the  boats  has  been  placed  there  on 
purpose.  A  boy  sealed  on  some  nets  occasionally  casts  an 
anxious  glance  toward  the  painter,  as  if  to  inquire  when  his 
penance  will  be  over. 

A  small  open  boat,  with  a  heap  of  stones  for  ballast,  and 
with  no  great  elegance  in  shape  of  rigging,  comes  slowly  in 
from  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  and  is  gently  run  alongside 
the  boat  in  which  the  man  is  painting.  A  fresh-colored 
young  fellow,  with  vuluminous  and  curly  brown  hair,  who 
has  dressed  himself  as  a  yachtsman,  calls  out,  "Lavender,  do 
you  know  the  White  Rose,  a  big  schooner  yacht? — about 
eighty  tons,  I  should  think." 

"Yes,"  Lavender  said,  without  turning  around  or  taking 
his  eyes' off  the  canvas. 

"  Whose  is  she  ?" 

"  Lord  Newstead's." 

"  Well,  either  he  or  his  skipper  hailed  me  just  now,  and 
wanted  to  know  whether  you  were  here.     I  said  you  were. 


380  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

The  fellow  asked  me  if  I  was  going  into  the  harbor.  I  said 
I  was.  So  he  gave  me  a  message  for  you — that  they  would 
hang  about  outside  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  if  you  would  go 
out  with  them,  and  take  a  run  up  to  Ardishaig." 

"  I  can't,  Johnny." 

"  I'd  take  you  out,  you  know.'* 

**  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"  Bat  look  here,  Lavender,"  said  the  young  man,  seizing 
hold  of  Lavender's  boat,  and  causing  the  easel  to  shake  dan- 
gerously; "he  asked  me  to  luncheon,  too." 

"Why  don't  you  go,  then?"  was  the  only  reply,  uttered 
rather  absently. 

**  I  can't  go  without  you." 

**  Well,  I  don't  mean  to  go. ' 

The  younger  man  looked  vexed  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  in  a  tone  of  expostulation,  ''You  know  it  is  very  absurd 
of  you  going  on  like  this,  Lavender.  No  fellow  can  paint 
decently  if  he  gets  out  of  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and 
waits  for  daylight  to  rush  up  to  his  easel.  How  many  hours 
have  you  been  at  work  already  to-day?  If  you  don't  give 
your  eyes  a  rest,  they  will  get  color-blind  to  a  dead  certain- 
ty. Do  you  think  you  will  paint  the  whole  place  off  the  face 
of  the  earth,  now  that  the  other  fellows  have  gone?" 

"I  can't  be  bothered  talking  with  you,  johnny.  You'll 
make  me  throw  something  at  you.     Go  away.'' 

"I  think  it's  rather  mean,  you  know,"  continued  the  per- 
sistent Johnny,  "  for  a  fellow  like  you,  who  doesn't  need  it, 
to  come  and  fill  the  market  all  at  once,  while  we  unfortunate 
devils  can  scarcely  get  a  crust.  And  there  are  two  heron  just 
around  the  point,  and  I  have  my  breech-loader  and  a  dozen 
cartridges  here.'' 

*'  Go  away,  Johnny."     That  was  all  the  answer  he  got. 

I'll  go  out  and  tell  Lord  Newsiead  that  you  are  a  cantan- 
kerous brute.  I  suppose  he'll  have  the  decency  to  offer  me 
luncheon,  and  I  dare  say  I  could  get  him  a  shot  at  these 
heron.  You  are  a  fuol  not  to  come,  Lavender  ;"  and  so 
saying,  the  young  man  pushed  out  again,  and  he  was  heard 
to  go  away  talking  to  himself  about  obstinate  idiots  and 
greed  and  the  certainty  of  getting  a  shot  at  the  heron. 

When  he  had  quite  gone.  Lavender  who  had  scarcely 
raised  his  eyes  from  his  work,  suddenly  put  down  his  palette 
and  brushes — he  almost  dropped  them.,  indeed  — and  quickly 


A   PRINCESS   OF    TKULE.  38 1 

put  np  both  his  hands  to  his  head,  preishig  them  on  the  side 
of  his  temples.  The  old  fiaherman  in  the  boat  beyond  no- 
ticed this  strange  movement,  and  forihwiih  caught  a  rope, 
hauled  the  boat  across  a  stretch  of  water,  and  then  came 
scrambling  over  bowsprit,  lowered  sails  and  nets,  to  where 
Lavender  had  just  sat  down. 

"  Wass  there  anything  the  matter,  sir?"  he  said,  with  much 
evidence  of  concern. 

"My  head  is  a  little  bad,  Donald,"  Lavender  said,  still 
pressing  his  hands  to  bis  temples,  as  if  to  get  rid  of  some 
strange  feeling.  "  I  wish  you  would  pull  in  to  the  shore  and 
get  me  some  whisky." 

"Oh,  ay,"  said  the  old  man,  hastily  scrambling  into  the 
little  black  boat  lying  beside  the  smack;  ''and  it  is  no  won- 
der to  me  that  this  will  come  to  you,  sir,  for  I  hef  never  seen 
any  of  ihe  gentlemen  so  long  at  the  pentin  as  you — from  the 
morning  till  tlie  night;  and  it  is  no  wonder  to  me  that  this 
will  come  to  you.  But  I  will  get  you  the  whushky ;  it  is  a 
grand  thing,  the  whushky." 

The  old  fisherman  was  not  long  in  getting  ashore  and  run- 
ning lip  to  the  cottage  where  Lavender  lived,  and  getting  a 
bottle  of  whisky  and  a  gla5S.  Then  he  got  down  to  the  boat 
again,  and  was  surprised  that  he  could  nowhere  see  Mr.  Lav- 
ender on  board  the  smack.  Perhaps  he  had  lain  down  on 
the  nets  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

When  Donald  got  out  to  the  smack  he  found  the  young  man 
lying  insensible,  his  face  white  and  his  teeth  clenched.  With 
something  of  a  cry  the  old  fisherm.an  jumped  into  the  boat, 
knelt  down,  and  proceeded  in  a  rough-and-ready  fashion  to 
force  some  whisky  into  Lavender's  mouth.  "Oh,  ay,  oh, 
yes,  it  is  a  grand  tiling,  t!.e  whushky,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. "  Oh,  yes,  sir,  you  must  hef  some  more;  it  is  no  matter 
if  you  will  choke.  It  is  ferry  good  whushky  and  will  do  you 
no  harm  whatever;  and  oh,  yes,  sir,  that  is  ferry  well,  and 
you  are  all  right  again,  and  you  will  sit  quite  quiet  now, 
and  you  will  hef  a  littile  more  v.'hushky." 

The  young  man  Incked  around  him.  "Have  you  been 
ashore,  Donald?  Oh,  yes — I  suppose  so.  Did  1  tum.ble? 
Well,  I'm  all  right,  now;  it  was  tne  glare  of  the  sea  that  made 
me  giddy.     Take  a  dram  for  ycurseif,  Donald." 

" 'I'here  is  but  the  one  glass,  sir,"  said  Donald,  who  had 
p'cked  up  some  hingof  the  notions  of  gentlefolk-,  "  but  I  wi  I 


382  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

just  tek  the  bottle;"  and  so,  to  avoid  drinking  out  of  the  same 
glass  (which  was  rather  a  small  one),  he  was  good  enough  to 
take  a  pull,  and  a  strong  pull,  at  the  black  bottle.  Then  he 
heaved  a  sigh,  and  wiped  the  top  of  the  bottle  with  his 
sleeve.  "Yes,  as  I  was  saying,  sir,  there  was  none  of  the 
gentlemen  I  hef  effer  seen  in  Tarbert  will  keep  at  the  pentin 
so  long  ass  you;  and  many  of  them  will  be  stronger  ass  you, 
and  will  be  more  accustomed  to  it  whatever.  But  when  a 
m?n  is  making  money — "  and  Donald  shook  his  head:  he 
knew  it  was  useless  to  argue. 

"But  I  am  not  making  money,  Donald,"  Lavender  .<^aid, 
still  looking  a  trifle  pale.  "  I  doubt  whether  I  have  made  as 
much  as  you  have  since  I  came  to  Tarbert." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Donald  contentedly,  "  all  the  gentlemen 
wilUay  that.  They  never  hef  any  money.  But  wass  you  ever 
with  them  when  they  could  not  get  a  dram  because  they  had 
no  money  to  pay  for  it?" 

Donald's  test  of  impecuniosity  could  not  be  gainsaid.  Lav- 
ender laughed,  and  bade  him  get  back  into  the  other  boat. 

"  'Deed  I  will  not,"  said  Donald,  sturdily. 

Lavender  stared  at  him. 

"Oh,  no;  you  wass  doing  quite  enough  the  day  already, 
or  you  would  not  hef  tumbled  into  the  boat  whatever.  And 
supposing  that  you  was  to  hef  tumbled  into  the  water,  you 
would  have  been  trooned  as  sure  as  you  wass  alive." 

'■And  a  good  job,  too,  Donald,"  said  the  younger  man 
idly  looking  at  the  lapping  green  v/ater. 

Donald  shook  his  head  gravely:  "  You  would  not  say  that 
if  you  had  friends  of  yours  that  was  trooned,  and  if  you  had 
seen  them  when  they  went  down  in  the  water." 

'•They  say  it  is  an  easy  death,  Donald." 

"  They  neffer  tried  it  that  said  that,"  said  the  old  fisher- 
man gloomily.  "  It  wass  one  day  the  son  of  my  sister  wass 
coming  over  from  Saltcoats — but  I  hef  no  wish  to  speak  of 
it;  and  that  w^ass  but  one  among  ferry  many  that  I  have 
known." 

"How  long  is  it  since  you  were  in  the  Lewis,  did  you 
say?"  Lavender  asked,  changing  the  subject.  Donald  was 
accustomed  to  have  the  talk  suddenly  diverted  into  this 
channel.  He  could  not  tell  why  the  young  English  gentle- 
man wanted  him  continually  to  be  talking  about  the  Lewis. 

"Oh,  it  is  many  and  raaiiy  a  year  ago,  as  I  hef  said;  and 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  383 

you  will  know  far  more  about  the  Lewis  than  I  will.  But 
Stornoway,  that  is  a  fine  big  town;  and  I  hef  a  cousin  there 
that  keeps  a  shop,  and  is  a  very  rich  man  whatever,  and 
many's  the  time  he  will  ask  me  to  come  and  see  him.  And 
if  the  Lord  be  spared,  maybe  I  will  some  day." 

"You  mean  if  you  be  spared,  Donald. 

''  Oh,  ay;  it  is  all  wan,''  said  Donald. 

Lavender  had  brought  with  him  some  bread  and  cheese  in 
3.  piece  of  paper  for  luncheon;  and  this  store  of  frugal  pro- 
visions having  been  opened  out,  the  eld  fisherman  was  in- 
vited to  join  in — an  invitation  he  gravely  but  not  eagerly 
accepted.  He  took  off  his  blue  bonnet  and  said  grace;  then 
he  took  the  bread  and  cheese  in  his  hand  and  looked  around 
inquiringly.  There  was  a  stone  jar  of  water  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat;  that  was  not  what  Donald  was  looking  after.  Laven- 
der handed  him  the  black  bottle  he  had  brought  out  from 
the  cottage,  which  was  more  to  his  mind.  And  then,  this 
humble  meal  dispatched,  the  old  man  was  persuaded  to  go 
back  to  his  post,  and  Lavender  continued  his  work. 

The  short  afternoon  was  drawing  to  a  close  when  young 
Johnny  Eyre  came  sailing  in  from  Loch  Fyne,  himself  and  a 
boy  of  ten  or  twelve  managing  that  crank  little  boat  with 
its  top-heavy  sails.  "Are  you  at  work  yet,  Lavender  ?"  he 
said.     "  I  never  saw  such  a  beggar.     It's  getting  quite  dark." 

"  What  sort  of  luncheon  did  Newstead  give  you, 
Johnny?" 

"  Oh,  something  worth  going  for,  I  can  tell  you.  You 
want  to  live  in  Tarbert  for  a  month  or  two  to  find  out  the 
value  of  decent  cooking  and  good  wine.  He  was  awfully 
surprised  when  I  described  this  place  to  him.  He  wouldn't 
believe  you  were  living  here  in  a  cottage:  I  said  a  garret, 
for  I  pitched  it  hot  and  strong,  mind  you.  I  said  you  were 
"iving  in  a  garret,  that  you  never  saw  a  razor,  and  lived  on 
oatmeal-porridge  and  whisky,  and  that  your  only  amuse- 
ment was  going  out  at  night  and  risking  your  neck  in  this 
delightful  boat  of  mine.  You  should  have  seen  him  examin- 
ing this  remarkable  vessel.  And  there  were  two  ladies  on 
board,  and  they  were  asking  after  you,  too." 

*'  Who  were  they  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  catch  their  names  when  I  was 
introduced ;  but  the  nobie  skipper  called  one  of  them  Polly." 
^    "  Oh,  1  know." 


384  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE, 

''Ain't  you  coming  ashore,  Lavender  ?  You  can't  see  to 
work  now." 

''All  right!  I  shall  put  my  traps  ashore,  and  then  I'll 
have  a  run  with  you  down  Loch  Fyne  if  you  like,  Johnny." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like,"  said  the  handsome  lad,  frankly,  "for 
it's  looking  rather  squally  about.  It  seems  to  me  you're  bent 
on  drowning  yourself.  Before  those  other  fellows  went,  they 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  you  had  committed  a  murder." 

*'  Did  they,  really?"  Lavender  said,  with  little  interest. 

"  And  if  you  go  away  and  live  in  that  wild  place  you  were 
talking  of  during  the  Winter,  they  will  be  qu'te  sure  of  it. 
Why,  man,  you'd  come  back  with  your  hair  turned  white. 
You  might  as  well  think  of  living  by  yourself  at  the  Arctic 
Pole." 

Neither  Johnny  Eyre  nor  any  of  the  men  who  had  just  left 
Tarbert  knew  anything  of  Frank  Lavender's  recent  history, 
and  Lavender  himself  was  not  disposed  to  be  communica- 
tive. They  Avould  know  soon  enough  when  they  went  up  to 
London.  In  the  meantime  they  were  surprised  to  find  that 
Lavender's  habits  were  very  singularly  altered.  He  had 
grown  miserly.  They  laughed  when  he  told  them  he  had  no 
money,  and  he  did  not  seek  to  persuade  them  of  the  fact; 
but  it  was  clear,  at  all  events,  that  none  of  them  lived  so 
frugally  or  worked  so  anxiously  as  he.  Then,  when  his  work 
was  done  in  the  evening,  and  when  they  met  alternately  at 
each  other's  rooms  to  dine  off  mutton  and  potatoes,  with  a 
glass  of  whisky  and  a  pipe  and  a  game  of  cards  to  follow, 
what  was  the  meaning  of  those  sudden  fits  of  silence  that 
would  strike  in  when  the  general  hilarity  was  at  its  pitch? 
And  what  was  the  meaning  of  the  utter  recklessness  he  dis- 
played when  they  would  go  out  of  an  evening  in  their  open 
sailing  boats  to  shoot  sea-fowl,  or  make  a  voyage  along  the 
rocky  coast  in  the  dead  of  night  to  wait  for  the  dawn  to 
show  them  the  haunts  of  the  seals  ?  The  Lavender  they  had 
met  occasionally  in  London  was  a  fastidious  dilettante,  self- 
possessed,  and  yet  not  disagreeable  fellow;  this  man  was  al- 
most pathetically  anxious  about  his  work,  oftentimes  he  was 
morose  and  silent,  and  then  again  there  was  no  sort  of  dan- 
ger or  difficulty  he  was  not  ready  to  plunge  into  when  they 
(vere  sailing  about  the  iron-bound  coast.  They  could  not 
make  it  out,  but  the  joke  among  theiwselves  was  that  h^  had 
committed  a  murder,  and  therefore  he  was  recklesi. 


A   PRINCESS   OF   TIIULE.  385 

This  Johnny  Eyre  was  not  much  of  an  artist,  but  he  liked 
the  society  of  artists;  he  had  a  little  money  of  his  own, 
plenty  of  time,  and  a  love  of  boating  and  shooting,  and  so 
he  had  pitched  his  tent  at  Tarbert,  and  was  proud  to  cherish 
the  delusion  that  he  was  working  hard  and  earning  fame  and 
wealth.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  never  earned  anything,  but 
he  had  very  good  spin'ts,  and  living  in  Tarbert  is  cheap. 

From  the  moment  that  Lavender  had  come  to  the  place, 
Johnny  Eyre  had  made  him  his  special  companion.  He  had 
a  great  respect  for  a  man  who  could  shoot  anything  any- 
where ;  and  when  he  and  Lavender  came  back  together 
from  a  cruise,  there  was  no  use  saying  which  had  actually 
done  the  brilliant  deeds  the  evidence  of  which  was  carried 
ashore.  But  Lavender,  oddly  enough,  knew  little  about 
sailing,  and  Johnny  was  pleased  to  assume  the  airs  of  an  in- 
structor on  this  point  ;  his  only  difficulty  being  that  his 
pupil  had  more  than  the  ordinary  hardihood  of  an  ignora- 
mus, and  was  rather  inclined  to  do  reckless  things  even  after 
he  had  sufficient  skill  to  know  that  they  were  dangerous. 

Lavender  got  into  the  small  boat,  taking  his  canvas  with 
him,  but  leaving  his  easel  in  the  fishing-smack.  He  pulled 
himself  and  Johnny  Eyre  ashore;  they  scrambled  up  the 
rocks  and  into  the  road,  and  then  they  went  into  the  small 
white  cottage  in  which  Lavender  lived.  The  picture  was, 
for  greater  safety,  left  in  Lavender's  bed-room,  which  already 
contained  about  a  dozen  canvases  with  sketches  in  various 
stages  on  them.     Then  he  went  out  to  his  friend  again. 

"  I've  had  a"long  day  to-day,  Johnny.  I  wish  you'd  go 
out  with  me;  the  excitement  of  a  squall  would  clear  one's 
brain,  I  fancy." 

•'  Oh,  I'll  go  out  if  you  like,"  Eyre  said,  "  but  I  shall  take 
very  good  care  to  run  in  before  the  squall  comes,  if  there's 
any  about.  I  don't  think  there  will  be,  after  all.  I  fancied 
I  saw  a  flash  of  lightning  about  half  an  hour  ago  down  in 
the  South,  but  nothing  has  come  of  it.  There  are  some 
curlew  about,  and  the  guillemots  are  in  thousands.  You 
don't  seem  to  care  about  shootilig  guillemots.  Lavender?'' 

"  Well,  you  see,  potting  a  bird  that  is  sitting  on  the 
water — "  said  Lavender,  with  a  shrug. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  as  easy  as  you  might  imagine.  Of  course 
you  could  kill  them  if  you  liked,  but  everybody  ain't  such  a 
swell  as  you  are  with  a  gun;  and  mind  you,  it's  uncommonly 


386  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

awkward  to  catch  the  right  moment  for  firing,  when  the  bird 
goes  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  waves,  disappearing  alto- 
gether every  second  second.  I  think  it's  very  good  fun 
myself.  It's  very  exciting  when  you  don't  know  the  moment 
the  bird  will  dive,  and  whether  you  can  afford  to  go  any 
nearer.  And  as  for  shooting  them  on  the  water,  you  have  to 
do  that,  for  when  do  you  get  a  chance  of  shooting  them 
flying?" 

'■  I  don't  see  much  necessity  for  shooting  them  at  any  time," 
said  Lavender,  as  he  and  Eyre  went  down  to  the  shore  again; 
"  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you  get  some  amusement  out  of  it. 
Have  you  got  cartridges  with  you?  Is  your  gun  in  the 
boat?" 

"  Yes.     Come  along.     We'll  have  a  run  out  anyhow." 

When  they  had  pulled  out  again  to  that  cockle-shell  craft 
with  its  stone  ballast  and  big  brown  mainsail,  the  boy  was 
sent  ashore  and  the  two  companions  set  out'  by  themselves. 
By  this  time,  the  sun  had  gone  down,  and  a  strange  green  twi- 
light was  shining  over  the  sea.  As  they  got  farther  out  the 
dusky  shores  seemed  to  have  a  pale  mist  hanging  around 
them,  but  there  were  no  clouds  on  the  hills,  for  a  clear  sky 
shone  overhead,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  stars.  Strange 
indeed  was  the  silence  out  here,  broken  only  by  the  lapping 
of  the  water  on  the  sides  of  the  boat  and  the  calling  of  birds 
in  the  distance.  Far  away  the  orange  ray  of  a  lighthouse  be- 
gan to  quiver  in  the  lambent  dusk.  The  pale  green  light  on 
the  waves  did  not  die  out,  but  the  shadows  grew  darker,  so 
that  Eyre,  with  his  gun  close  at  hand,  could  not  make  out  his 
grcups  of  guillemots,  although  he  heard  them  calling  all 
around.  They  had  come  out  too  late,  indeed,  for  any  such 
purpose. 

Thither  on  those  beautiful  evenings,  after  his  day's  work 
was  over.  Lavender  was  accustomed  to  come,  either  by  him- 
self or  with  his  present  companion.  Johnny  Eyre  did  not  in- 
trude on  his  solitude:  he  was  invariably  too  eager  to  get  a 
shot,  his  chief  delight  being  to  get  to  the  bow,  to  let  the  boat 
drift  for  a  while  silently  through  the  waves,  so  that  she  might 
come  unawares  on  some  flock  of  sea-birds.  Lavender,  sitting 
in  the  stern  with  the  tiller  in  his  hand,  was  really  alone  in 
this  world  of  water  and  sky,  with  all  the  majesty  of  the  night 
and  the  stars  around  him. 

And  on  these  occasions  he  used  to  sit  and  dream  of  the 


A     PRINCESS    OK     THULE.  387 

beautiful  time  long  ago  in  Loch  Roag,  when  nights  such  as 
these  used  to  come  over  the  Atlantic,  and  find  Sheila  and 
himself  sailing  on  the  peaceful  waters,  or  seated  high  up  on 
the  rocks  listening  to  the  murmur  of  the  tide.     Here  was  the 
same  strange  silence,  the  same  solemn  and  pale  light  in  the 
sky,  the  same  mystery  of  the  moving  plain  all  around  them 
that  seemed  somehow  to  be  alive,  and   yet  voiceless  and  sad. 
Many  a  time  his  heart  became  so  full  of  recollections  that  he 
had  almost  called  aloud  "  Sheila!  Sheila!"  and  waited  for 
the  sea  and  the  sky  to  answer  him  with  the  sound  of  her 
voice.     In  these  by-gone  days  he  had  pleased  himself  with 
the  fancy  that  the  girl  was  somehow  the  product  of  all  the 
beautiful  aspects  of  Nature  around  her.     It  was  the  sea  that 
was  in  her  eyes,  it  was  the  fair  sunlight  that  shone  in  her  face, 
the  breath  of  her  life  was  the  breath  of  the  moorland  winds. 
He  had  written  verses  about  this  fancy  of  his;  and  he  had 
conveyed  them  secretly  to  her,  sure  that  she,  at  least,  would 
find  no  defects  in  them.     And  many  a  time,  far  away  from 
Loch  Roag  and  from  Sheila,  lines  of  this  conceit  would  wan- 
der through  his  brain,  set  to  the  saddest  of  all  music,  the 
music  of  irreparable  loss.     What  did  they  say  to  him,  now 
that  he  recalled  them  like  some  half-forgotten  voice  out  of 
the  strange  past  ? 

For  she  and  the  clouds  and  the  breezes  were  one, 
And  the  hills  and  the  sea  had  conspired  with  the  sun 
To  charm  and  bewilder  all  men  with  the  grace 
They  combined  and  conferred  on  her  wonderful  face. 

The  sea  lapped  around  the  boat,  the  green  light  on  the 
waves  grew  somehow  less  intense,  in  the  silence  the  fir^t  of 
the  stars  came  out,  and  somehow  the  time  in  which  he  had 
seen  Sheila  in  these  rare  and  magical  colors  seemed  to  be- 
come more  and  more  remote: 

An  angel  in  passing  looked  downward  and  smiled, 
And  carried  to  heaven  the  fame  of  the  child  ; 
And  then  what  the  waves  and  the  sky  and  the  sun 
And  the  tremulous  breath  of  the  hills  had  begun 
Required  but  one  touch.     To  finish  the  whole, 
God  loved  her  and  gave  her  a  beautiful  soul. 

And  what  had  he  done  with  this  rare  treasure  intrusted  to 
him  ?  His  companions,  jesting  among  themselves,  had  said 
that  he  had  committed  a  murder;  in  his  own  heart  there  was 
something  at  this  moment  of  a  murderer's  remorse. 

Johnny  Eyre  uttered  a  short  cry.    Lavender  looked  ahead, 


388  A      PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

and  saw  that  some  black  object  was  disappearing  among  the 
waves. 

'*  What  a  fright  I  got!"  E3're  said,  with  a  laugh.  "I  never 
saw  the  fellow  come  near,  and  he  came  up  just  below  the 
bowsprit.  He  came  keeling  over  as  quiet  as  a  mouse.  I  say, 
Lavender,  I  think  we  might  as  well  cut  it  now;  my  eyes  are 
quite  bewildered  with  the  light  on  the  water.  I  couldn't 
make  out  a  kraken  if  it  was  coming  across  our  bows." 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Johnny.  We'll  put  her  out  a  bit, 
and  then  let  her  drift  back.     I  want  to  tell  you  a  story." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  he  said;  and  so  they  put  her  head  around 
and  soon  she  was  lying  over  before  the  breeze,  and  slowly 
drawing  away  from  those  outlines  of  the  coast  which  showed 
them  where  Tarbert  harbor  cut  into  the  land.  And  then 
once  more  they  let  her  drift,  and  young  Eyre  took  a  nip  of 
whisky  and  settled  himself  so  as  to  hear  Lavender's  story, 
whatever  it  might  be. 

"  You  knew  I  was  married  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Didn't  you  ever  wonder  why  my  wife  did  not  ccme 
here  ?" 

"  Why  should  I  wonder  ?  Plenty  of  fellows  have  to  spend 
half  the  year  apart  from  their  wives;  the  only  thing  in  }our 
case  I  couldn't  understand  was  the  necessity  for  your  doing 
it.  For  you  know  that's  all  nonsense  about  your  want  of 
funds." 

"  It  isn't  nonsense,  Johnny.  But  now,  if  you  like,  I  will 
tell  you  why  my  wife  has  never  co!ii:e  here." 

Then  he  told  the  story,  out  there  under  the  stars,  with  no 
thought  of  interruption,  for  there  was  a  world  of  moving 
water  around  them.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  let  any  one 
into  his  confidence,  and  perhaps  the  darkness  aided  his  reve- 
lations; but  at  any  rate  he  went  over  all  the  old  time,  until  it 
seemed  to  his  companion  that  he  was  talking  to  himself,  so 
aimless  and  desultory  were  his  pathetic  reminiscences.  He 
called  her  Sheila,  though  Eyre  had  never  heard  her  name. 
He  spoke  of  her  father  as  though  Eyre  must  have  known 
him.  And  yet  this  rambling  series  of  confessions  and  self- 
reproaches  and  tender  memories  did  form  a  certain  sort  of 
narrative,  so  that  the  young  fellow  sitting  quietly  in  the  boat 
there  got  a  pretty  fair  notion  of  what  had  happened. 

"You  are  an  unlucky  fellow,"  he  said  to  Lavender.     "  I 


A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE.  389 

never  heard  anything  like  that.  But  you  know  you  must  have 
exaggerated  a  good  deal  about  it.  I  should  like  to  hear  her 
story.     I  am  sure  you  could  not  have  treated  her  like  that." 

"  God  knows  how  I  did,  but  the  truth  is  just  as  I  have  told 
you;  and  aUhough  I  was  blind  enough  at  the  time,  I  can 
read  the  whole  st(;ry  now  in  letters  of  fire.  I  hope  you  will 
never  have  such  a  thing  constantly  before  your  eyes, 
Johnny," 

The  lad  was  silent  for  some  time,  and  then  he  said,  rather 
timidly,  "Do  you  think,  Lavender,  she  knows  how  sorry  you 
are?'' 

"  If  she  did,  what  good  would  that  do  ?"  said  the  other. 

"  Women  are  awfully  forgiving,  you  know,"  Johnny  said, 
in  a  hesitating  fashion.  "  I — I  don't  think  it  is  quite  fair  not 
to  give  her  a  chance — a  chance  of — of  being  generous,  you 
know.  You  know,  I  think  the  better  a  woman  is,  the  more 
inclined  she  is  to  be  charitable  to  other  folks  who  mayn't  be 
quite  up  to  the  mark,  you  know;  and  you  see,  it  ain't  every 
one  who  can  claim  to  be  always  doing  the  right  thing;  and 
the  next  best  thing  to  that  is  to  be  sorry  for  what  you've 
done  and  try  to  do  better.  It's  rather  cheeky,  you  know, 
my  advising  you,  or  trying  to  make  you  pluck  up  your  spir- 
its; but  I'll  tell  you  wliat  it  is.  Lavender,  if  I  knew  her  well 
enough,  I'd  go  straight  to  her  to-morrow,  and  I'd  put  in  a 
good  word  for  you,  and  tell  her  some  things  she  doesn't  know; 
and  you'd  see  if  she  wouldn't  write  you  a  letter,  or  even  come 
and  see  you." 

"  That  is  all  nonsense,  Johnny,  though  its  very  good  of 
you  to  think  of  it.  The  mischief  I  have  done  isn't  to  be  put 
aside  by  the  mere  writing  of  a  letter." 

"  But  it  seems  to  me,"  Johnny  said,  with  some  warmth, 
"  that  you  are  as  unfair  to  her  as  to  yourself  in  not  giving 
her  a  chance.  You  don't  know  how  willing  she  may  be  to 
overlook  everything  that  is  past." 

"  If  she  were,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  near  her,  I  couldn't  have 
the  cheek  to  try,  Johnny," 

''  But  what  more  can  you  be  than  sorry  for  what  is  past," 
said  the  younger  fellow,  persistently.  "And  you  don't  know 
how  pleased  it  makes  a  good  woman  to  give  her  the  chance 
of  forgiving  anybody.  And  if  we  were  all  to  set  up  for  being 
archangels,  and  if  there  was  to  be  no  sort  of  getting  back  for 
us  after  we  had  made  a  slip,  where  should  we  be  ?    And  in 


390  K    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

place  of  going  to  her  and  making  it  all  right,  you  start  away 
for  the  Sound  of  Islay;  and,  by  Jove  !  won't  you  find  out 
what  spending  a  winter  under  these  Jura  mountains  means  ! 
I  have  tried  it  and  I  know." 

A  flash  of  lightning,  somewhere  down  among  the  Arran 
hills,  interrupted  the  speaker,  and  drew  the  attention  of  the 
two  young  men  to  the  fact  that  in  the  East  and  Southeast  the 
stars  were  no  longer  visil^e,  while  something  of  a  brisk 
breeze  had  sprung  up, 

"This  breeze  will  take  us  back  splendidly,"  Johnny  said, 
getting  ready  again  for  the  run  to  Tarbert. 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  Lavender  called  attention  to 
a  fishing-smack  that  was  apparently-  making  for  the  harbor. 
With  all  sails  set  she  was  sweeping  by  them  like  some  black 
phantom  across  the  dark  plain  of  the  sea.  They  could  not 
make  out  the  figures  on  board  of  her,  but  as  she  passed  some 
one  called  out  to  them. 

"What  did  he  say?"  Lavender  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  his  companion  said;  "but  it  was  some 
sort  of  warning,  I  suppose.  By  Jove,  Lavender,  what  is 
that?" 

Behind  them  there  was  a  strange  hissing  noise  that  the 
wind  brought  along  to  them,  but  nothing  could  be  seen. 

"Rain,  isn't  it?"  Lavender  said. 

"There  never  was  rain  like  that,"  his  companion  Faid. 
"  That  is  a  squall,  and  it  will  be  here  presently.  We  must 
haul  down  the  sails.  Fcr  God's  sake,  look  sharp.  Laven- 
der !" 

There  was  certainly  no  time  to  lose,  for  the  noise  behind 
them  was  increasing  and  deepening  into  a  roar,  and  the 
heavens  had  grown  black  overhead,  so  that  the  spars  and 
ropes  of  the  crank  little  boat  could  scarcely  be  made  out. 
They  had  just  got  the  sails  down  when  the  first  gust  of  the 
squall  struck  the  boat  as  with  a  blow  of  iron,  and  sent  her 
staggering  forward  into  the  trough  of  the  sea.  Then  all 
around  them  came  the  fury  of  the  storm,  and  the  cause  of 
the  sound  they  heard  was  apparent  in  the  foaming  water  that 
was  torn  and  scattered  abroad  by  the  gale.  Up  from  the 
black  Southeast  came  the  fierce  hurricane,  sweeping  every- 
thing before  it,  and  hurling  this  creaking  and  straining  boat 
about  as  if  it  were  a  cork.  They  could  see  little  of  the  sea 
around  them,  but  they  could  hear  the  awful  noise  of  it,  and 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THUl^.  39 1 

they  knew  they  were  be'iig  swept  along  on  those  hurrying 
waves  toward  a  coast  which  was  invisible  in  the  blackness  of 
the  night. 

"  Johnny,  we'll  never  make  the  harbor.  I  can't  see  a 
light,"  Lavender  cried.  "  Hadn't  we  better  try  to  keep  her 
up  the  loch  ?■' 

"  We  w«j/ make  the  harbor,"  his  companion  said;  "she 
can't  stand  this  much  longer." 

Blinding  torrents  of  rain  were  now  being  driven  down  by 
the  force  of  the  wind,  so  that  all  around  them  nothing  was 
visible  but  a  wild  boiling  and  seething  of  clouds  and  waves, 
Eyre  was  up  at  the  bow  trying  to  catch  some  glimpse  of  the 
outlines  of  the  coast,  or  to  make  out  some  light  that  would 
show  them  where  the  entrance  to  Tarbert  harbor  lay.  If 
only  some  lurid  shaft  of  Ightning  would  pierce  the  gloom  ! 
for  they  knew  that  they  were  being  driven  headlong  on  an 
iron-bound  coast ;  and,  amid  all  the  noise  of  the  wind  and 
the  sea,  they  listened  wiih  a  fear  that  had  no  words  for  the 
first  roar  of  the  waves  along  the  rocks. 

Suddenly  Lavender  hea-d  a  shrill  scream,  almost  like  the 
cry  a  hare  gives  when  it  finds  the  dog's  fangs  in  its  neck; 
and  at  the  same  moment,  amid  all  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  a  still  blacker  object  seemed  to  start  out  of  the  gloom 
right  ahead  of  them.  The  boy  had  no  time  to  shout  any 
warning  beyond  that  cry  of  despair,  for  with  a  wild  crash 
the  boat  struck  on  the  rocks,  rose  and  struck  again,  and 
was  then  dashed  over  by  a  heavy  sea,  both  of  its  occupants 
being  thrown  into  the  fierce  swirls  of  foam  that  were  dash- 
ing in  and  through  the  rocky  channels.  Strangely  enough, 
they  were  thrown  together;  and  Lavender,  clinging  to  the 
sea-weed,  instinctively  laid  hold  of  his  companion  just  as 
the  latter  appeared  to  be  slipping  into  the  gulf  beneath. 

"Johnny,"  he  cried,  "hold  on! — hold  on  to  me — or  we 
shall  both  go  in  a  minute." 

But  the  lad  had  no  life  left  in  him,  and  lay  like  a  log  there, 
while  each  wave  that  struck  and  rolled  hissing  and  gurgling 
through  the  channels  between  the  rocks  seemed  to  drag  at 
him  and  seek  to  suck  him  down  into  the  darkness.  With  one 
despairing  effort.  Lavender  struggled  to  get  him  farther  up 
on  the  slippery  sea-weed,  and  succeeded.  But  his  success 
had  lost  him  his  own  vantage  ground,  and  he  knew  that  he 
was  going  down  into  the  whirling  waters  beneath,  close  by 


392  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

the  broken  boat  that  was  still  being  dashed  about  by  the 


waves. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

•'  HAME    FAIN   WOULD   I   BE." 

Unexpected  circumstances  had  detained  Mrs.  Kavanagh 
and  her  daugher  in  London  long  after  everybody  else  had 
left,  but  at  length  they  were  ready  to  start  for  their  projected 
trip  into  Switzerland.  On  the  day  before  their  departure 
Ingram  dined  with  them — on  his  own  invitation.  He  had 
got  into  the  habit  of  letting  them  know  when  it  would  suit 
him  to  devote  an  evening  to  their  instruction;  and  it  was 
difficult  indeed  to  say  which  of  the  two  ladies  submitted  the 
more  readily  and  meekly  to  the  dictatorial  enunciation  of 
his  opinions.  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  it  is  true,  sometimes  dissented 
in  so  far  as  a  smile  indicated  dissent,  but  her  daughtc 
scarcely  reserved  to  herself  so  much  liberty.  Mr.  Ingram  had 
taken  her  in  hand,  and  expected  of  her  the  obedience  and 
respect  due  his  superior  age. 

And  yet,  somehow  or  otlier,  he  occasionally  found  himself 
indirectly  soliciting  the  advice  of  this  gentle,  clear-eyed  and 
clear-headed  young  person,  more  especially  as  regarded  the 
difficulties  surrounding  Sheila;  and  sometimes  a  chance  re- 
mark of  hers,  uttered  in  a  timid  or  careless  or  even  mocking 
fashion,  would  astonish  him  by  the  rapid  light  it  threw  on 
these  dark  troubles.  On  this  evening — the  last  evening 
they  were  spending  in  London — it  was  his  own  affairs  which 
he  proposed  to  mention  to  Mrs.  Lorraine,  and  he  had  no 
more  hesitation  in  doing  so  than  if  she  had  been  his  oldest 
friend.  He  wanted  to  ask  her  what  he  should  do  about  the 
money  Mrs.  Lavender  had  left  him;  and  he  intended  to  be  a 
good  deal  more  frank  with  Mrs.  Lorraine  than  with  any  of 
the  others  to  whom  he  had  spoken  about  the  matter.  For  he 
was  well  aware  that  Mrs.  Lavender  had  at  first  resolved  that 
he  should  have  at  least  a  considerable  portion  of  her  wealth, 
or  why  should  she  have  asked  him  how  he  would  like  to  be  a 
rich  man  ? 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  quietly,  "that  there 
is  any  use  in  your  asking  me  what  you  should  do,  for  I  know 
what  you  will  do,  whether  it  accords  with  any  one's  opinion 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  393 

or  no.  And  yet  you  would  find  a  great  advantage  in  having 
money" 

"Oh,  I  know  that,"  he  said  readily,  "  I  should  like  to  be 
rich  beyond  anything  that  ever  happened  in  a  drama  ;  and  I 
should  take  my  chance  of  all  the  evil,  influences  that  money 
is  supposed  to  exert.  Do  you  know,  1  think  you  rich  people 
are  very  unfairly  treated." 

"  But  we  are  not  rich,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  passing  at 
the  time.  ' '  Cecilia  and  I  find  ourselves  very  poor  some- 
times." 

"But  I  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Ingram,  mamma,"  said  Ce- 
cilia— as  if  any  one  had  had  the  courage  to  disagree  with  Mr. 
Ingram! — "  rich  people  are  shamefully  ill-treated.  If  you  go 
to  a  theatre  now  you  find  that  all  the  virtues  are  on  the  side 
of  the  poor,  and  if  there  are  a  few  vices,  you  get  a  thousand 
excuses  for  them.  No  one  takes  account  of  the  temptations 
of  the  rich.  You  have  people  educated  from  their  infancy  to 
imagine  that  the  whole  Avorld  was  made  for  them,  every  wish 
they  have  gratified,  every  day  showing  them  people  depend- 
ent on  them  and  grateful  for  favors;  and  no  allowance  is 
made  for  such  a  temptation  to  become  haughty,  self-willed 
and  overbearing.  But  of  course  it  stands  to  reason  that  the 
rich  never  have  justice  done  them  in  plays  and  stories,  for  the 
people  who  write  are  poor." 

"  Not  all  of  them." 

"  But  enough  to  strike  an  average  of  injustice.  And  it  is 
very  hard.  For  it  is  the  rich  who  buy  books  and  who  take 
boxes  at  the  theaters,  and  then  they  find  themselves  grossly 
abused;  whereas  the  humble  peasant,  who  can  scarcely  read 
at  all,  and  who  never  pays  more  than  sixpence  for  a  seat  in 
the  gallery,  is  flattered  and  coaxed  and  caressed  until  one 
wonders  whether  the  source  of  virtue  is  the  drinking  of  sour 
ale.  Mr.  Ingram,  you  do  it  yourself.  You  impress  mamma 
and  me  with  the  belief  that  we  are  miserable  sinners  if  we  are 
not  continually  doing  some  act  of  charity.  Well,  that  is  all 
very  pleasant  and  necessary,  in  moderation;  but  you  don't 
find  the  poor  folks  so  very  anxious  to  live  for  other  people. 
They  don't  care  much  what  becomes  of  us.  They  take  your 
port  wine  and  flannels  as  if  they  were  conferring  a  favor  on 
you,  but  as  ior  your  condition  and  prospect  in  this  world  and 
the  next,  they  don't  trouble  much  about  that.  Now,  mamma, 
just  wait  a  moment." 


394  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

''I  will  not.  You  are  a  bad  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh, 
severely.  "Here  has  Mr.  Ingram  been  teaching  you  and 
making  you  better  for  ever  so  long  back,  and  you  pretend  to 
accept  his  counsel  and  reform  yourself;  and  then  all  at  once 
you  break  out  and  throw  down  the  tablets  of  the  law  and 
conduct  yourself  like  a  heathen." 

"  Because  I  want  him  to  explain,  mamma.  I  suppose  he 
considers  it  wicked  for  us  to  start  for  Switzerland  to-morrow. 
The  money  we  shall  expend  in  traveling  might  have  dispatched 
a  cargo  of  muskets  to  some  missionary  station,  so  that — 

"Cecilia!" 

**  Oh,  no,"  Ingram  said  carelessly,  and  nursing  his  knee 
with  both  his  hands  as  usual,  "  traveling  is  not  wicked;  it  is 
only  unreasonable.  A  traveler,  you  know,  is  a  person  who 
has  a  house  in  one  town,  and  who  goes  to  live  in  a  house  in 
another  town,  in  order  to  have  the  pleasure  of  paying  for 
both." 

"Mr.  Ingram,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  "will  you  talk  seri- 
ously for  one  minute,  and  tell  me  whether  we  are  to  expect 
to  see  you  in  the  Tyrol  ?" 

But  Ingram  was  not  in  a  mood  for  talking  seriously,  and 
he  waited  to  hear  Mrs.  Lorraine  strike  in  with  some  calmly 
audacious  invitation.  She  did  not,  however,  and  he  turned 
around  from  her  mother  to  queption  her.  He  was  surprised 
to  find  that  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ground  and  that  some- 
thing like  a  tinge  of  color  was  in  her  face.  He  turned 
rapidly  away  again,  ''Well,  Mrs,  Kavanagh,"  he  said,  with 
a  fine  air  of  indifference,  "  the  last  time  we  spoke  about  that 
I  was  not  in  the  difficulty  I  am  in  at  present.  How  could 
I  go  traveling  just  now,  without  knowing  how  to  regulate  my 
daily  expenses?  Am  I  to  travel  with  six  white  horses  and 
silver  bells,  or  trudge  on  foot  with  a  wallet  ?" 

"You  know  quite  well,"  said  Mrs.  Lorraine,  warmly,  "you 
know  you  will  not  touch  that  money  that  Mrs.  Lavender  has 
left  you." 

"Oh,  pardon  me,"  he  said  :  "  I  should  rejoice  to  have  it 
if  it  did  not  properly  belong  to  some  one  else.  And  the 
difficulty  is,  that  Mr.  Mackenzie  is  obviously  very  anxious 
that  neither  Mr.  Lavender  nor  Sheila  should  have  it.  If 
Sheila  gets  it,  of  course  she  will  give  it  to  her  husband. 
Now,  if  it  is  not  to  be  given  to  her,  do  you  think  I  should 
regard  the  money  with   any  particular   horror  and   refuse  to 


A     PRINCESS    OV     THULE.  395 

touch  it?  That  would  be  very  romantic,  perhaps,  but  I 
should  be  sorry,  you  know,  to  give  my  friends  the  most  dis- 
quieting doubts  about  my  sanity^  Romance  goes  out  of  a 
man's  head  when  the  hair  gets  gray." 

"  Until  a  man  has  gray  hair,"  Mrs.  Lorraine  said,  still  with 
some  unnecessary  fervor,  "  he  does  not  know  that  there  are 
things  much  more  valuable  than  money.  You  wouldn't  touch 
that  money  just  now,  and  all  the  thinking  and  reasoning  in 
the  world  will  never  get  you  to  touch  it." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  wiih  it?"  he  said,  meekly. 

•'*  Give  it  to  Mr.  Mackenz'e  in  trust  for  his  daughter," 
Mrs.  Lorraine  said  promptly;  and  then,  seeing  that  her 
mother  had  gone  to  the  end  of  the  drawing-room  to  fetch 
something  or  other,  she  added  quickly,  "  I  should  be  more 
sorry  than  I  can  tell  you  to  find  you  accepting  this  money. 
You  do  not  wish  to  have  it.  You  do  not  need  it.  And  if 
you  did  take  it,  it  would  prove  a  source  of  continual  embar- 
rassment and  regret  to  you,  and  no  assurances  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Mackenzie  would  be  able  to  convince  you  that  you 
had  acted  rightly  by  his  daughter.  Now,  if  you  simply  hand 
over  your  responsibilities  to  him,  he  cannot  refuse  them,  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  child,  and  you  are  left  with  the  sense  of 
having  acted  nobly  and  generously.  I  hope  there  are  many 
men  who  would  do  what  I  ask  you  to  do,  but  I  have  not  met 
many  to  whom  I  could  make  such  an  appeal  with  any  hope. 
But,  after  all,  that  is  only  advice.  I  have  no  right  to  ask 
you  to  do  anything  like  that .  You  asked  me  for  my  opin- 
ion about  it.  Well,  that  is  it.  But  I  should  not  have  asked 
you  to  act  on  it." 

"  But  I  w^ill,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice;  and  then  he  went  to 
the  other  end  of  the  room,  for  Mrs.  Kavanagh  was  calling 
him  to  help  her  in  finding  something  she  had  lost. 

Before  he  had  left  that  evening  Mrs.  Lorraine  said  to  him, 
"We  go  by  the  night  mail  to  Paris  to-morrow  night,  and  we 
shall  dine  here  at  five.  Would  you  have  the  courage  to  come 
up  and  join  us  in  that  melancholy  ceremony?" 

"Oh,  yes,''  he  said;  "if  I  may  go  down  to  the  station  to 
see  you  away  afterward." 

"  I  think  if  we  got  you  so  far  we  should  persuade  you  to 
go  with  us,"  Mrs.  Kavanagh  said,  with  a  smile. 

He  sat  silent  for  r  minute.  Of  course  she  could  not  seri- 
ously mean  such  a  thing.    Butj  at  ail  events,  she  would  not 


396  A      PRINCESS     OF     THULE, 

be  displeased  if  he  crossed  their  path  while  they  were 
actually  abroad. 

"It  is  getting  too  late  in  the  year  to  go  to  Scotland  now," 
he  said,  with  some  hesitation. 

"  Oh,  most  certainly,"  Mrs.  Lorraine  said. 

"  I  don't  know  where  the  man  in  whose  yacht  I  was  to 
have  gone  may  be  now.  I  might  spend  half  my  holiday  in 
trying  to  catch  him." 

"  And  during  that  time  you  would  be  alone,"  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine said. 

**  I  suppose  the  Tyrol  is  a  very  nice  place,"  he  suggested. 

"Oh,  most  delightful!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  know,  we 
should  go  around  by  Switzerland,  and  go  up  by  Luzerne  and 
Zurich  to  the  end  of  the  Lake  of  Constance.  Bregenz, 
mamma,  isn't  that  the  place  wnere  we  hired  that  good-na- 
tured man  the  year  before  last  i"' 

"Yes,  child." 

"  Now,  you  see,  Mr,  Ingram,  if  you  had  less  time  than  we 
— if  you  could  not  start  with  us  to-morrow — you  might  come 
straight  down  by  Schaffhausen  and  the  steamer,  and  catch  us 
up  there,  and  then  mamma  would  become  your  guide.  I  am 
sure  we  should  have  some  pleasant  days  together  till  you  got 
tired  of  us,  and  then  you  could  go  off  on  a  walking  tour  if 
you  pleased.  And  then,  you  know,  there  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  our  meeting  at  Bregenz,  for  mamma  and  I  have 
plenty  of  time,  and  we  should  wait  there  for  a  few  days,  so 
as  to  make  sure." 

"  Cecilia,"  said  Mrs,  Kavanaa:h,  "  you  must  not  persuade 
Mr.  Ingram  against  his  will.  He  may  have  other  duties — 
other  friends  to  see,  perhaps." 

"  Who  proposed  it,  mamma?  ''  said  the  daughter,  calmly. 

"I  did,  as  a  mere  joke.  But  of  course,  if  Mr.  Ingram 
thinks  of  going  to  the  Tyrol,  we  should  be  most  pleased  to 
see  him  there." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  other  friends  whom  I  am  bound  to  see," 
Ingram  said, with  some  hesitation,  "and  I  should  like  to  go 
to  the  Tyrol.     But — the  fact  is — I  am  afraid — " 

"  May  I  interrupt  you?"'  said  Mrs.  Lorraine.  "You  do 
not  like  to  leave  London  so  long  as  your  friend  Sheila  is  in 
trouble.  Is  not  that  the  case  ?  And  yet  she  has  her  father 
to  look  afier  her.  And  it  is  clear  you  cannot  do  much  for 
her  when  you  do  not  even  know  where  Mr.  Lavender  i-.   0;> 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  397 

the  whole,  I  think  you  should  consider  yourself  a  little  bit 
now,  and  not  get  cheated  out  of  your  holidays  for  the  year." 

"Very  well,"  Ingram  said,  "  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you 
to-morrow." 

To  be  so  phlegmatic  and  matter-of-fact  a  person,  Mr.  In- 
gram was  sorely  disturbed  on  going  home  that  evening,  nor 
did  he  sleep  much  during  the  night.  For  the  more  that  he 
speculated  on  all  the  possibilities  that  might  arise  from  his 
meeting  these  people  in  the  Tyrol,  the  more  pertinaciously 
did  this  refrain  follow  these  excursive  fancies:  "If  I  go  t^ 
the  Tyrol  I  shall  fall  in  love  with  that  girl,  and  ask  her  to 
marry  me.  And  if  I  do  so,  what  position  should  I  hold, 
with  regard  to  her,  as  a  penniless  man  with  a  rich  wife  ?" 

He  did  not  look  at  the  question  in  such  a  light  as  the 
opinion  of  the  world  might  throw  on  it.  The  difficulty  was 
that  she  herself  might  afterwards  come  to  think  of  their 
mutual  relations.  True  it  was  that  no  one  could  be  more 
gentle  and  submissive  to  him  than  she  appeared  to  be.  In 
matters  of  opinion  and  discussion  he  already  ruled  with  an 
autocratic  authority  which  he  fully  perceived  himself,  and 
exercised,  too,  with  some  sort  of  notion  that  it  was  good  for 
this  clear-headed  young  woman  to  have  to  submit  to  control. 
But  of  v/hat  avail  would  this  moral  authority  be  as  against  the 
consciousness  she  would  have  that  it  was  her  fortune  that  was 
supplying  both  with  the  means  of  living? 

He  went  down  to  his  office  in  the  morning  with  no  plans 
formed.  The  forenoon  passed,  and  he  had  decided  on 
nothing.  At  mid-day  he  suddenly  bethought  him  that  it 
would  be  very  pleasant  if  Sheila  would  go  and  see  Mrs. 
Lorraine;  and  forthwith  he  did  that  which  would  have 
driven  Frank  Lavender  out  of  his  senses — he  telegraphed  to 
Mrs.  Lorraine  to  bring  Sheila  and  her  father  to  dinner  at  five. 
He  certainly  knew  that  such  a  request  was  a  trifle  cool,  but 
he  had  discovered  that  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  not  easily  shocked 
by  such  audacious  experiments  on  her  good  nature.  When 
he  received  th;  telegram  in  reply  he  knew  it  granted  what 
he  had  ^.sked.  The  words  were  merely,  "Certainly,  by  all 
means,  but  not  later  than  five." 

Then  he  hastened  down  to  the  house  in  which  Sheila  lived, 
and  found  that  she  and  her  father  had  just  returned  from 
visiting  some  exhibition.  Mr.  Mackenzie  was  not  in  the 
room. 


398  A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

•'  Sheila,"  Ingram  said,  "  what  would  you  think  of  my 
getting  married  ?" 

Sheila  looked  up  with  a  bright  smile  and  said:  "  It  would 
please  me  very  much — it  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me; 
and  I  have  expected  it  for  some  time.'' 

"  You  have  expected  it  ?"  he  repeated,  with  a  stare. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Then  you  fancy  you  know — "  he  said,  or  rather  stam- 
mered, in  great  embarrassm'^it,  when  she  interrupted  him 
by  saying, 

"  Oh  yes,  I  think  I  know.  When  you  came  down  every 
evening  to  tell  me  all  the  praises  of  Mrs.  Lorraine,  and  how 
clever  she  was,  and  kind,  I  expected  you  would  come  some 
day  with  another  message;  and  now  I  am  very  glad  to  hear 
it.     You  have  changed  all  my  opinions  about  her,  and — " 

Then  she  rose  and  took  both  his  hands,  and  looked 
frankly  into  his  face. 

"And  I  do  hope  most  sincerely  you  will  be  happy,  my 
dear  friend." 

Ingram  was  fairly  taken  aback  at  the  consequences  of  his 
own  imprudence.  He  had  never  dreamed  for  a  moment  that 
any  one  would  have  suspected  such  a  thing;  and  he  had 
thrown  out  the  suggestion  to  Sheila  almost  as  a  jest,  believing, 
of  course,  that  it  compromised  no  one.  And  here,  before 
he  had  spoken  a  word  to  Mrs.  Lorraine  on  the  subject,  he 
was  being  congratulated  on  his  approaching  marriage. 

"Oh,  Sheila,"  he  said,  "this  is  all  a  mistake.  It  was  a 
joke  of  mine.  If  I  had  known  you  would  think  of  Mrs. 
Lorraine,  I  would  not  have  said  a  word  about  it." 

"  But  it  is  Mrs.  Lorraine?"  Sheila  said. 

"Well,  but  I  have  never  mentioned  such  a  thing  to  her — 
never  hinted  it  in  the  remotest  manner.  I  dare  say  if  I  had 
she  might  laugh  the  matter  aside  as  too  absurd." 

"  She  will  not  do  that,"  Sheila  said.  "  If  you  ask  her  to 
marry  you,  she  will  marry  you;  I  am  sure  of  that  from  what 
I  have  heard,  and  she  would  be  very  foolish  if  she  Vv-as  not 
proud  and  glad  to  do  that.  And  you — what  doubt  can  you 
have,  after  all  that  you  have  been  saying  of  late?" 

"But  you  don't  marry  a  woman  merely  because  you  ad- 
mire her  cleverness  and  kindness,"  he  said;  and  then  he 
added  suddenly:  "  Sheila,  would  you  do  me  a  great  favor? 
Mrs.  Lorraine  and  her  mother  are  leaving  for  the  Continent 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  399 

to-night.  They  dine  at  five,  and  I  am  commissioned  to  ask 
you  and  your  papa  if  you  would  go  up  with  me  and  have 
some  dinner  with  them,  you  know,  before  they  start.  Won't 
you  do  that,  Sheila?'' 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  without  answering.  She  had  not 
gone  to  any  friend's  house  since  her  husband  had  left  Lon- 
don, and  that  house,  above  all  others,  was  calculated  to 
awaken  in  her  bitter  recollections. 

"Won't  you.  Sheila?"  he  said.  ''You  used  to  go  there. 
I  know  they  like  you  very  much.  I  have  seen  you  very  well 
pleased  and  comfortable  there,  and  I  thought  you  were  en- 
joying yourself," 

"Yes,  that  is  true,''  said  Sheila;  and  then  she  looked  up 
with  a  strange  sort  of  smile  on  her  lips.  "  But  *  what  made 
the  assembly  shine  ?'  " 

That  forced  smile  did  not  last  long;  the  girl  suddenly  burst 
into  tears,  and  rose  and  went  away  to  the  window.  Macken- 
zie came  into  the  room:  he  did  not  see  his  daughter  was 
crying.  "  Well,  Mr.  Ingram,  and  are  you  coming  with  us  to 
the  Lewis  ?  We  cannot  be  staying  in  London,  for  there  will 
be  many  things  wanting  the  looking  after  in  Borva,  as  you 
will  know  ferry  well.  And  yet  Sheila  she  will  not  go  back; 
and  Mairi,  too,  she  will  be  forgetting  the  ferry  sight  of  her 
own  people;  but  if  you  wass  coming  with  us,  Mr.  Ingram, 
Sheila  she  would  come  too,  and  it  would  be  ferry  good  for 
her  whatever." 

"  I  have  brought  you  another  proposal.  Will  you  take 
Sheila  to  see  the  Tyrol,  and  I  will  go  with  you?" 

"The  Tyrol?"  said  Mr.  Mackenzie.  "Ay,  it  is  a  ferry 
long  way  away,  but  if  Sheila  will  care  to  go  to  the  Tyrol — 
oh,  yes,  I  will  go  to  the  Tyrol  or  anywhere  if  she  will  go  out 
of  London,  for  it  is  not  good  for  a  young  girl  to  be  always  in 
the  one  house,  and  no  company  and  no  variety;  and  I  was 
saying  to  Sheila  what  good  will  she  do  sitting  by  the  window 
and  thinking  over  things,  and  crying  sometimes  By  Kott, 
it  is  a  foolish  thing  for  a  young  girl,  and  I  will  hef  no  more 
of  it!" 

In  other  circumstances  Ingram  would  have  laughed  at  this 
dreadful  threat.  Despite  the  frown  on  tlie  old  man's  face, 
the  sudden  stamp  of  his  foot,  and  the  vehemence  of  his 
words,  Ingram  knew  that  if  Sheila  had  turned  around  and 
said  that  she  wished  to  be  shut  up  in  a  dark  room  for  the  rebt 


400  A    PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

of  her  life,  the  old  King  of  Borva  would  have  said:  "  Ferry 
well,  Sheila,"  in  the  meekest  way,  and  would  have  been  sat- 
isfied if  only  he  could  share  her  imprisonment  with  her. 

"  But  first  of  all,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  I  have  another  proposal 
to  make  to  you,"  Ingram  said,  and  then  he  urged  upon 
Sheila's  father  to  accept  Mrs.  Lorraine's  invitation. 

Mr,  Mackenzie  was  nothing  loth.  Sheila  was  living  by 
far  too  monotonous  a  life.  He  went  over  to  the  window  to 
her  and  said,  "  Sheila,  my  lass,  you  was  going  nowhere  else 
this  evening;  and  it  would  be  ferry  convenient  to  go  with  Mr. 
Ingram,  and  he  would  see  his  friends  away,  and  we  could  go 
to  a  theatre  then.  And  it  is  no  new  thing  for  you  to  go  to 
fine  houses  and  see  other  people;  but  it  is  new  to  me,  and 
you  wass  saying  what  a  beautiful  house  it  wass  many  a  time, 
and  I  hef  wished  to  see  it.  And  the  people  are  ferry  kind, 
Sheila,  to  send  me  ari  invitation;  and  if  they  w^ass  to  come 
to  the  Lewis,  what  would  you  think  if  you  asked  them  to 
come  to  your  house  and  they  paid  no  heed  to  it  ?  Now,  it 
is  after  four.  Sheila,  and  if  you  wass  to  get  ready  now — '' 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  and  get  ready,  papa,"  she  said. 

Ingram  had  a  vague  consciousness  that  he  was  taking 
Sheila  up  to  introduce  to  her  Mr.  Lorraine  in  a  new  char- 
acter. Would  Sheila  look  at  the  woman  she  used  to  fear  and 
dislike  in  a  wholly  different  fashion,  and  be  prepared  to  adorn 
her  with  all  the  graces  which  he  had  so  often  described  to 
her?  Ingram  hoped  that  Sheila  would  get  to  like  Mrs. 
Lorraine,  and  that  by-and-by  a  better  acquaintance  between 
them  might  lead  to  a  warm  and  friendly  intimacy.  Some- 
how, he  felt  that  if  Sheila  would  betray  such  a  liking — if  she 
would  come  to  him  and  say  honestly  that  she  was  rejoiced 
he  meant  to  marry — all  his  doubts  would  be  cleared  away. 
Sheila  had  already  said  pretty  nearly  as  much  as  that,  but 
then  it  followed  what  she  understood  to  be  an  announcement 
of  his  approaching  marriage,  and,  of  course,  the  giri's  kindly 
nature  at  once  suggested  a  few  pretty  speeches.  Sheila  now 
knew  that  nothing  was  settled  ;  after  looking  at  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine in  the  light  of  these  new  possib'lities,  would  she  come 
to  him  and  counsel  him  to  go  on  and  challenge  a  decision  ? 

Mr.  Mackenzie  received  with  a  grave  dignity  and  polite- 
ness the  more  than  friendly  welcome  given  him  by  both  Mrs. 
Kavanagh  and  her  daughter,  and  in  view  of  their  approach- 
ing tour  he  gave  them  to  understand  that  he  had  himself  estab 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  4OI 

lished  somewhat  familiar  relations  with  foreign  countries  by- 
reason  of  his  meeting  with  the  ships  and  sailors  hailing  from 
those  distant  shores.  He  displayed  a  profound  knowledge 
of  the  habits  and  customs  and  of  the  natural  products  of 
many  remote  lands,  which  were  much  farther  afield  than  a 
little  bit  of  inland  Germany.  He  represented  the  island  of 
Borva,  indeed,  as  a  sort  of  lighthouse  from  which  you  could 
survey  pretty  nearly  all  the  countries  of  the  world,  and 
broadly  hinted  that,  so  far  as  insular  prejudice  being  the 
fruit  of  living  in  such  a  place,  a  general  intercourse  with 
diverse  peoples  tended  to  widen  the  understanding  and  throw 
light  on  the  various  social  experiments  that  had  been  made 
by  the  lawgivers,  the  philanthropists,  the  philosophers  of  the 
world. 

It  seemed  to  Sheila,  as  she  sat  and  listened,  that  the  pale, 
calm  and  clear-eyed  young  lady  opposite  her  was  not  quite 
so  sell-possessed  as  usual.  She  seemed  shy  and  a  little  self- 
conscious.  Did  she  suspect  that  she  was  being  observed, 
Sheila  wondered  ?  and  the  reason  ?  When  dinner  was  an- 
nounced she  took  Sheila's  arm,  and  allowed  IMr.  Ingram  to 
follow  them,  protesting,  into  the  other  room,  but  there  was 
much  more  of  embarrassment  and  timidity  than  of  an  auda- 
cious mischief  in  her  look.  She  was  very  kind  indeed  to 
Sheila,  but  she  had  wholly  abandoned  that  air  of  maternal 
patronage  which  she  used  to  assume  toward  the  girl.  She 
seemed  to  wish  to  be  more  friendly  and  confidential  with  her, 
and  indeed  scarcely  spoke  a  word  to  Ingram  during  dinner, 
so  persistently  did  she  talk  to  Sheila,  who  sat  next  her. 

Ingram  got  vexed.  "  Mrs.  Lorraine,"  he  said,  *'  you  seem 
to  forget  that  this  is  a  solemn  occasion.  You  ask  us  to  a 
farewell  banquet,  but  instead  of  observing  the  proper  cere- 
monies, you  pass  the  time  in  talking  about  fancy  work  and 
music,  and  other  ordinary,  everyday  infles." 

"  What  are  the  ceremonies?"  she  said. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "you  need  not  occupy  the  time 
with  crochet — " 

"  Mrs.  Lavender  and  I  are  very  well  pleased  to  talk  about 
trifles." 

"  But  I  am  not,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  and  I  am  not  going  to 
be  shut  out  by  a  conspiracy.  Come,  let  us  talk  about  your 
journey." 

"  Will  my  lord  give  his  commands  as  to  the  point  at  which 
we  shall  start  the  conversation  !" 


4,02  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

"You  may  skip  the  Channel." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  she  remarked,  with  a  sigh. 

"  We  shall  land  you  in  Paris.  How  are  we  to  know  that 
you  have  arrived  safely?" 

She  looked  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  and  then  said: 
"If  it  is  of  any  consequence  for  you  to  know,  I  shall  be 
writing  in  any  case  to  Mrs.  Lavender  about  some  little  private 
matter." 

Ingram  did  not  receive  this  promise  with  any  great  show 
of  delight.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  somewhat  glumly,  "  if  I  am 
to  meet  you  anywhere,  I  should  like  to  know  the  various  stages 
of  your  route,  so  that  I  could  guard  against  our  missing  each 
other." 

"  You  have  decided  to  go,  then  ?" 

Ingram,  not  looking  at  her,  but  looking  at  Sheila,  said: 
"Yes;"  and  Sheila,  despite  all  her  efforts,  could  not  help 
glancing  up  with  a  brief  smile  and  blush  of  pleasure  that 
were  quite  visible  to  everybody. 

Mrs.  Lorraine  struck  in  with  a  sort  of  nervous  haste:  "  Oh, 
that  will  be  very  pleasant  for  mamma,  for  she  gets  rather 
tired  of  me  at  times  when  we  are  traveling.  Two  women 
who  always  read  the  same  sort  of  books  and  have  the  same 
opinions  about  the  people  they  meet,  and  have  precisely  the 
same  tastes  in  everything,  are  not  very  amusing  companions 
for  each  other.     You  want  a  little  discussion  thrown  in." 

"And  if  we  meet  Mr.  Ingram  we  are  sure  to  have  that," 
Mrs.  Kavanagh  said,  benignly. 

"  And  you  want  somebody  to  give  you  new  opinions  and 
put  things  differently,  you  know.  I  am  sure  mamma  will  be 
most  kind  to  you  if  you  can  make  it  convenient  to  spend  a 
few  days  with  us,  Mr.  Ingram." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  delightful!"  Mrs.  Lorraine  cried,  sud- 
denly taking  Sheila's  hand.  "  You  will  come,  won't  you  ? 
We  should  have  such  a  pleasant  party.  I  am  sure  your  papa 
will  be  most  interested:  and  we  are  not  tied  to  any  rouie: 
we  should  go  wherever  you  pleased." 

She  would  have  gone  on  beseeching  and  advising,  but  she 
saw  something  in  Sheila's  face  which  told  her  that  all  her 
efforts  would  be  unavailing. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  Sheila  said,  -'but  I  do  not  think 
I  can  go  to  the  Tyrol." 

"  Then  you  shall  go  back  to  the  Lewis,  Sheila,"  her 
father  said 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  4O3 

"I  cannot  go  back  to  the  Lewis,  papa,"  she  said  simply; 
and  at  this  point  Ingram,  perceiving  how  painful  the  dis- 
cussion was  for  the  girl,  suddenly  called  attention  to  the 
hour,  and  asked  Mrs.  Kavanagh  if  all  her  portmanteaus 
were  strapped  up. 

They  drove  in  a  body  down  to  the  station,  and  Mr. 
Ingram  was  most  assiduous  in  supplying  the  two  travelers 
with  an  abundance  of  everything  they  could  not  possibly 
want.  He  got  them  a  reading-lamp,  though  both  of  them 
declared  they  never  read  in  a  train.  He  got  them  some  eau- 
de-cologne,  though  they  had  plenty  in  their  traveling-case. 
He  purchased  for  them  an  amount  of  miscellaneous  liter- 
ature that  would  have  been  of  benefit  to  a  hospital,  pro- 
vided the  patients  were  strong  enough  to  bear  it.  And  then 
he  bade  them  good-bye  at  least  half  a  dozen  times  as  the 
train  was  slowly  moving  out  of  the  station,  and  made  the 
most  solemn  vows  about  meeting  them  at  Bregenz. 

"  Now,  Sheila,"  he  said,  *'  shall  we  go  the  theatre?" 

"  I  do  not  care  to  go  unless  you  wish,"  was  the  answer. 

''She  does  not  care  to  go  anywhere  now,"  her  father  said; 
and  then  the  girl,  seeing  that  he  was  rather  distressed  about 
her  apparent  want  of  interest,  pulled  herself  together  and  said 
cheerfully,  "  Is  it  not  too  late  to  go  to  a  theatre  ?  And  I 
am  sure  we  could  be  very  comfortable  at  home.  Mairi,  she 
will  think  it  unkind  if  we  go  to  the  theatre  by  ourselves." 

"  Mairi  !"  said  her  father,  impatiently,  for  he  never  lost 
an  opportunity  of  indirectly  justifying  Lavender,  "Mairi  has 
more  sense  than  you,  Sheila,  and  she  knows  that  a  servant- 
lass  has  to  stay  at  home,  and  she  knows  that  she  is  ferry  dif- 
ferent from  you ;  and  she  is  a  ferry  good  girl  whatever,  and 
hass  no  pride,  and  she  does  not  expect  nonsense  in  going 
about  and  such  things." 

"  I  am  quite  sure,  papa,  you  would  rather  go  home  and  sit 
down  and  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Ingram,  and  a  pipe  and  a  lit- 
tle whisky,  than  go  to  any  theatre." 

"What  I  would  do  !  And  what  I  would  like  !"  said  her 
father,  in  a  vexed  way.  "  Sheila,  you  have  no  more  sense  as 
a  lass  that  wass  still  at  the  school.  I  want  you  to  go  to  the 
theatre  and  amuse  youself,  instead  of  sitting  in  the  house  and 
thinking,  thinking,  thinking.     And  all  for  what  ?" 

•'  But  if  one  has  something  to  be  sorry  for,  is  it  not  better 
to  think  of  it  ?" 


404  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"And  what  hef  you  to  be  sorry  for?"  said  her  father,  in 
amazement,  and  forgetting  that,  in  his  diplomatic  fashion, 
he  had  been  accustoming  Sheila  to  the'^notion  that  she,  too, 
might  have  erred  grievously  and  been  in  part  responsible  for 
all  that  had  occurred. 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  to  be  sorry  for,  papa,"  she  said;  and 
then  she  renewed  her  entreaties  that  her  two  companions 
should  abandon  their  notion  of  going  to  a  theatre,  and  re- 
solve to  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  what  she  consented 
to  call  her  home. 

After  all,  they  formed  a  comfortable  little  company  when 
they  sat  around  the  fire,  which  had  been  lit  for  cheerfulness 
rather  than  warmth,  and  Ingram  at  least  was  in  a  particularly 
pleasant  mood.  For  Sheila  had  seized  the  opportunity, 
when  her  father  had  gone  out  of  the  room  for  a  few  minutes, 
to  say  suddenly,  "  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  if  you  care  for  her, 
you  have  a  great  happiness  before  you." 

"  Why,  Sheila?"  he  said,  staring, 

'•'  She  cares  for  you  more  than  you  can  think:  I  saw  it  to- 
night in  everything  she  said  and  did." 

"  I  thought  she  was  just  a  trifle  saucy,  do  you  know.  She 
shunted  me  out  of  the  conversation  altogether." 

Sheila  shook  her  head  and  smiled.  "  She  was  embarrassed. 
She  suspects  that  you  like  her,  and  that  I  know  it,  and  that  I 
came  to  see  her.  If  you  ask  her  to  marry  you  she  will  do  it 
gladly." 

"  Sheila,"  Ingram  said,  with  a  severity  that  was  not  in  his 
heart,  "  you  must  not  say  such  things.  You  might  make 
fearful  mischief  by  putting  these  wild  notions  into  people's 
heads." 

"  They  are  not  wild  notions,"  she  said, quietly.  "  A  woman 
can  tell  what  another  woman  is  thinking  about  better  than  a 
man." 

"  And  am  I  to  go  to  the  Tyrol  and  ask  her  to  marry  me  ?  " 
he  said,  with  the  air  of  a  meek  scholar. 

"  I  should  like  t  J  see  you  married — very,  very  much,  in- 
deed," Sheila  said. 

"And  to  her?" 

"  Yes,  to  her,"  the  girl  said  frankly.  "  For  I  am  sure  she 
has  great  regard  for  you,  and  she  is  clever  enough  to  put 
value  on — on — but  I  cannot  flatter  you,  Mr.  Ingram." 

"  Shall  I  send  you  word  about  what  happens  in  the  Tyrol  ?" 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  4O5 

he  said,  still  with  the  humble  air  of  one  receiving  instruc- 
tions. 
"Yes." 

"  And  if  she  rejects  me  what  shall  I  do  ?" 
"  She  will  not  reject  you." 

"  Shall  I  come  to  you  for  consolation,  and  ask  you  what 
you  meant  by  driving  me  on  such  a  blunder?"' 

"  If  she  rejects,"  Sheila  said  with  a  smile,  "  it  will  be  your 
own  fault,  and  you  will  deserve  it.  For  you  are  a  little  too 
harsh  with  her,  and  you  have  too  much  authority,  and  I  am 
surprised  that  she  will  be  so  amiable  under  it.  Because,  you 
know,  a  woman  expects  to  be  treated  with  much  gentleness 
and  deference  before  she  has  said  she  will  marry.  She  likes 
to  be  entreated,  and  coaxed,  and  made  much  of,  but  instead 
of  that  you  are  very  overbearing  with  Mrs.  Lorraine." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  be,  Sheila,"  he  said,  honestly  enough. 
'■  If  anything  of  the  kind  happened  it  must  have  been  in  a 
j  jke." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  a  joke,"  Sheila  said,  "and  I  have  noticed  it 
l:)efore — the  very  first  evening  you  came  to  their  house. 
And  perhaps  you  did  not  know  of  it  yourself;  and  then 
Mrs.  Lurrame  she  is  clever  enough  to  see  that  you  did  not 
mean  to  be  disrespectful.  But  she  will  expect  you  to  alter 
that  a  great  deal  if  you  ask  her  to  marry  you;  that  is,  until 
you  are  married." 

"  Have  I  ever  been  overbearing  to  you,  Sheila?"  he  asked. 
"  To  me  ?  Oh,  no,  You  have  always  been  very  gentle 
to  me ;  but  I  know  ho.v  that  is.  When  you  first  knew  me  I 
was  almost  a  child,  and  you  treated  me  like  a  child;  and 
ever  since  then  it  has  always  been  the  same.  But  to  others — 
yes,  you  are  too  unceremonious;  and  Mrs.  Lorraine  will  ex- 
pect you  to  be  much  more  mild  and  amiable,  and  you  must 
let  her  have  opinions  of  her  o\vn." 

"  Sheila,  you  give  me  to  understand  that  I  am  a  bear,"  he 
said,  in  tones  of  injured  protest. 

Sheila  laughed:  "  Have  I  told  you  the  truth  at  last  ?  It 
was  no  matter  s )  long  as  you  had  ordinary  acquaintances 
to  deal  with.  B^t  now  if  you  wish  to  marry  that  pretty  lady, 
you  must  be  much  more  gentle  if  you  are  discussing  any- 
thing with  her;  and  if  she  says  anything  that  is  not  very  wise, 
you"mu5t  not  say  bluntly  that  it  is  fooHsh,  but  you  must 
smooth  it  away,  and  put  her  right  gently,  and  then  she  will 


4o6  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

be  grateful  to  you.  But  if  you  say  to  her:  '  Oh,  that  is  non- 
sense!' as  you  might  say  to  a  man,  you  will  hurt  her  very 
much.  The  man  would  not  care — he  would  think  you  were 
stupid  to  have  a  different  opinion  from  him;  but  a  woman 
fears  she  is  not  as  clever  as  the  man  she  is  talking  to,  and  likes 
his  good  opinion;  and  if  she  says  something  careless  like 
that,  she  is  sensitive  to  it,  and  it  wounds  her.  To-night  you 
contradicted  Mrs.  Lorraine  about  the  h  in  those  Italian 
words,  and  I  am  quite  sure  you  were  wrong.  She  knows 
Italian  much  better  than  you  do,  and  yet  she  yielded  to  you 
very  prettily." 

"Go  on,  Sheila,  go  on,"  he  said,  with  a  resigned  air. 
"  What  else  did  I  do  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  great  many  rude  things.  You  should  not  have 
contradicted  Mrs.  Kavanagh  about  the  color  of  an  amethyst." 

"But  why?  You  know  she  was  wrong;  and  she  said 
herself,  a  minute  afterwards  that  she  was  thinking  of  a  sap- 
phire." 

"  But  you  ought  not  to  contradict  a  person  older  than 
yourself,"  said  Sheila,  sententiously. 

"  Goodness  gracious  me  !  Because  one  person  is  born  in 
one  year,  and  one  in  another,  is  that  any  reason  why  you 
should  say  that  an  amethyst  is  blue  ?  Mr.  Mackenzie,  come  and 
talk  to  this  girl.  She  is  trying  to  pervert  my  principles.  She 
says  that  in  talking  to  a  woman  you  have  to  abandon  all  hope 
of  being  accurate,  and  that  respect  for  the  truth  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Because  a  woman  has  a  pretty  face  she  is  to  be 
allowed  to  say  that  black  is  white,  and  white  pea-green. 
And  if  you  say  anything  to  the  contrary,  you  are  a  brute, 
and  had  better  go  and  bellow  by  yourself  in  a  wilderness." 

"Sheila  is  quite  right,"  said  old  Mackenzie,  at  a  venture. 

**  Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  Ingram  asked  coolly.  "  Then  I 
can  understand  how  her  moral  sentiment  has  been  destroyed, 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  where  she  has  got  a  set  of  opinions  that 
strike  at  the  very  roots  of  a  respectable  and  decent  society.'' 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Sheila,  seriously,  "that  it  is  very 
rude  of  you  to  say  so,  even  in  jest.  If  you  treat  Mrs.  Lor- 
raine in  this  way — " 

She  suddenly  stopped.  Her  father  had  not  heard,  being 
busy  among  his  pipes.  So  the  subject  was  discreetly  dropped, 
Ingram  reluctantly  promising  to  pay  some  attention  to 
Sheila's  precepts  of  politeness. 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  407 

Altogether,  it  was  a  pleasant  evening  they  had,  but  when 
Ingram  had  left,  Mr.  Mackenzie  said  to  his  daughter, 
"Now,  look  at  this  Sl-iCila.  When  Mr.  Ingram  goes  away 
from  London,  you  hef  no  friend  at  all  then  in  the  place,  and 
you  are  quite  alone.  Why  will  you  not  come  to  the  Lewis, 
Sheila  !  It  is  no  one  there  will  know  anything  of  what  has 
happened  here  ;  and  Mairi  she  is  a  good  girl,  and  she  will 
hold  her  tongue." 

"  They  will  ask  me  why  I  come  back  without  my  husband," 
Sheila  said,  looking  down. 

"Oh,  you  will  leave  that  all  to  me,"  said  her  father,  who 
knew  he  had  surely  sufficient  skill  to  thwart  the  curiosity  of 
a  few  simple  creatures  in  Borva.  "  There  is  many  a  girl  hass 
to  go  home  for  a  time  while  her  husband  he  is  away  on 
his  business  ;  and  there  will  no  one  hef  the  right  to  ask  you 
any  more  than  I  will  tell  them  ;  and  I  will  tell  them  what  they 
should  know — oh,  yes,  I  will  tell  them  ferry  well — and  you 
will  hef  no  trouble  about  it.  And,  Sheila,  you  are  a  good 
lass,  and  you  know  that  I  hef  many  things  to  attend  to  that 
is  not  easy  to  write  about — " 

"  I  do  know  that,  papa,"  the  girl  said,  "  and  many  a  time 
have  I  wished  you  would  go  back  to  the  Lewis." 

'•And  leave  you  here  by  yourself  ?  Why,  you  are  talking 
foolishly,  Sheila.  But  now.  Sheila,  you  will  see  how  you 
could  go  back  with  me;  and  it  would  be  a  ferry  different 
thing  for  you  running  about  in  the  fresh  air  than  shut  up  in 
a  room  in  the  middle  of  a  town.  And  you  are  not  looking 
ferry  well,  my  lass,  and  Scarlett  she  will  hef  to  take  the  charge 
of  you." 

"I  will  go  to  the  Lewis  with  you,  papa,  when  you  please," 
she  said,  and  he  was  glad  and  proud  to  hear  her  decision,  but 
there  was  no  happy  light  of  anticipation  in  her  eyes,  such  as 
ought  to  have  been  awakened  by  this  projected  journey  to 
the  far  island  which  she  had  known  as  her  home. 

And  so  it  was  that  one  rough  and  blustering  afternoon  the 
Clansman  steamed  into  Siornoway  harbor,  and  Sheila,  cast- 
ing timid  and  furtive  glances  toward  the  quay,  saw  Duncan 
standing  there,  with  the  wagonette  some  little  distance  back 
imder  charge  of  a  boy.  Duncan  was  a  proud  man  that  day. 
He  was  the  fir=t  to  shove  the  gangway  on  to  the  vessel,  and 
he  was  the  first  to  get  on  board ;  and  in  another  minute 
Sheila  found  the  tall,  keen-eyed,  brown-faced  keeper  before 


4o8  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

heV,  and  he  was  talking  in  a  rapid  and  eagei  fashion,  throw- 
ing in  an  occasional  scrap  of  Gaelic  in  the  mere  hurry  of  his 
words. 

'•  Oh,  yes,  Miss  Sheila,  Scarlett  she  is  ferry  well  whatever, 
but  there  is  nothing  will  make  her  so  well  as  your  coming 
back  to  sa  Lewis;  and  we  wass  saying  yesterday  that  it  looked 
as  if  it  Wass  more  as  three  or  four  years,  or  six  years,  since 
you  went  away  from  sa  Lewis,  but  now  it  iss  no  time  at  all, 
for  you  are  just  the  same  Miss  Sheila  as  we  knew  before;  and 
there  is  not  one  in  all  Borva  but  will  think  it  iss  a  good  day 
this  day  that  you  will  come  back.'' 

"  Duncan,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  an  impatient  stamp  of 
his  foot,  "  why  will  you  talk  like  a  foolish  man?  Get  the 
luggage  to  the  shore,  instead  of  keeping  us  all  the  day  in 
the  boat." 

"  Oh,  ferry  well,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  said  Duncan,  depart- 
ing with  an  injured  air,  and  grumbling  as  he  went, "it  iss 
no  new  thing  to  you  to  see  Miss  Sheila,  and  you  will  have 
no  thocht  for  any  one  but  yourself.  But  I  will  get  out  the 
luzgage — oh  yes,  I  will  get  out  the  luggage." 

Sheila,  in  truth,  had  but  little  luggage  with  her,  but  she 
remained  on  board  the  boat  until  Duncan  was  quite  ready 
to  start,  for  she  did  not  wish  just  then  to  meet  any  of  her 
friends  in  Stornoway.  Then  she  stepped  ashore  and  crossed 
the  quay,  and  got  into  the  wagonette;  and  the  two  horses, 
whom  she  had  caressed  for  a  moment,  seemed  to  know  that 
they  weie  carrying  Sheila  back  to  her  own  country,  from 
the  speed  with  which  they  rattled  out  of  the  town  and  away 
into  the  lonely  moorland. 

Mackenzie  let  them  have  their  way.  Past  the  solitary 
lakes  they  went,  past  the  long  stretches  of  undulating  mo- 
rass, past  the  lonely  sheilings  perched  far  up  on  the  hills;  and 
the  rough  and  blustering  wind  blew  about  them,  and  the 
gray  clouds  hurried  by,  and  the  old  strong-'  -arded  man  who 
shook  the  reins  and  gave  the  horses  their  heads  could  have 
laughed  aloud  in  his  joy  that  he  was  driving  his  daughter 
home.  But  Sheila — she  sat  there  as  one  dead:  and  Mairi, 
timidly  regarding  her,  wondered  what  the  impassable  face 
and  the  bewildered,  sad  eyes  meant.  Did  she  not  smell  the 
sweet,  strong  smell  of  the  heather  ?  Had  she  no  interest  in 
the  great  birds  that  were  circling  in  the  air  over  by  the 
Barbhas  mountains  ?    Where  was  the  pleasure  she  used  to  ex- 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  409 

liibit  in  remembering  the  curious  names  of  the  small  lakes 
they  passed  ? 

And  lo!  the  rough  gray  day  broke  asunder,  and  a  great 
blaze  of  fire  appeared  in  the  V/est,  shining  across  the  moors 
and  touching  the  blue  slopes  of  the  distant  hills.  Sheila 
was  getting  near  the  region  of  beautiful  sunsets  and  lambent 
twilights  and  the  constant  movement  and  "mystery  of  the 
sea.  Overhead  the  heavy  clouds  were  still  hurried  on  by  the 
wind ;  and  in  the  South  the  Eastern  slopes  of  the  hills  and  the 
moors  were  getting  to  be  of  a  soft  purple;  but  all  along  the 
West,  where  her  home  was,  lay  a  great  flush  of  gold,  and 
she  knew  that  Loch  Roag  was  shining  there,  and  the  gable  of 
the  house  at  Borvapost  getting  warm  in  the  beautiful  light. 

"  It  is  a  good  afternoon  you  will  be  getting  to  see  Borva," 
her  father  said  to  her;  but  all  the  answer  she  made  was  to  a^k 
her  father  not  to  stop  at  Garra-na-hina,  but  to  drive  straight 
on  to  Callernish.  She  would  visit  the  people  at  Garra-na-hina 
some  other  day. 

The  boat  was  waiting  for  them  at  Callernish,  and  the  boat 
was  the  Maighdean-mhara. 

*'  How  pretty  she  is  !  How  have  you  kept  her  so  well, 
Duncan?"  said  Sheila,  her  face  lighting  up  for  the  first  time 
as  she  went  down  the  path  to  the  bright  painted  little  vessel 
that  scarcely  rocked  in  the  water  below. 

"  Bekaas  we  neffer  knew  but  that  it  was  this  week  or  the 
week  before,  or  the  next  week  you  would  come  back.  Miss 
Sheila,  and  you  would  want  your  boat;  but  it  was  Mr.  Mac- 
kenzie himself,  it  wass  he  that  did  all  the  pentin  of  the  boat; 
and  it  iss  as  well  done  as  Mr.  McNicol  could  have  done  it, 
and  a  great  better  than  that  mirover." 

"Won't  you  steer  her  yourself,  Sheila?"  her  father  sug- 
gested, glad  to  see  that  she  was  at  last  being  interested  and 
pleased. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will  steer  her,  if  I  have  not  forgotten  ail  the 
points  that  Duncan  taught  me  ?'' 

"And  I  am  sure  you  hef  not  done  that,  Miss  Sheila,"  Dun- 
can said,  "  for  there  wass  no  one  knew  Loch  Roag  belter 
as  you,  not  one,  and  you  hef  not  been  so  long  away;  and 
when  you  tek  the  tiller  in  your  hand,  it  will  all  come  back  to 
you,  just  as  if  you  wass  going  away  from  Borva  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday." 

She  certainly  had  not  forgotten,   and   she  was  proud  and 


4  TO  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE, 

pleased  to  see  how  well  the  shapely  little  craft  performed  its 
duties.  They  had  a  favorable  wind,  and  ran  rapidly  along 
the  opening  channels  until,  in  due  course,  they  glided  into 
the  well-known  bay  over  which,  and  shining  in  the  yellow 
light  from  the  sunset,  they  saw  Sheila's  home. 

Sheila  had  escaped  so  far  the  trouble  of  meeting  friends, 
but  she  could  not  escape  her  friends  in  Borvapost.  They 
had  waited  for  her  for  hours,  not  knowing  when  the  Clans- 
man might  arrive  at  Stornoway  ;  and  now  they  crowded 
down  to  the  shore,  and  there  was  a  great  shaking  of  hands, 
and  an  occasional  sob  from  some  old  crone,  and  a  thousand 
repetitions  of  the  familiar  "And  are  you  ferry  well,  Miss 
Sheila  ?"  from  small  children  who  had  come  across  from  the 
village  in  defiance  of  mothers  and  fathers.  And  Sheila's  face 
brightened  into  a  wonderful  gladness,  and  she  had  a  hundred 
questions  to  ask  for  one  answer  she  got,  and  she  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  the  number  of  small  brown  fisis  that 
wanted  to  shake  hands  with  her. 

"Will  you  let  Miss  Sheila  alone?"  Duncan  called  out, 
adding  something  in  Gaelic  which  came  strangely  from  a 
man  who  sometimes  reproved  his  own  master  for  swearing. 
"  Get  away  with  you,  you  brats;  it  wass  better  you  would 
be  in  your  beds  than  laothering  people  that  wass  come  all  the 
way  from  Stornoway.'' 

Then  they  all  went  up  in  a  body  to  the  house,  and  Scar- 
lett, who  had  neither  eyes,  ears  nor  hands,  but  for  the  young 
girl  who  had  been  the  very  pride  of  her  heart,  was  nigh 
driven  to  distraction  by  Mackenzie's  stormy  demands  for 
oatcake  and  glasses  and  whisky.  Scarlett  angrily  remon- 
strated with  her  husband  for  allowing  this  rabble  of  people  to 
interfere  with  the  comfort  of  Miss  Sheila;  and  Duncan,  tak- 
ing her  reproaches  with  great  good-humor,  contented  himself 
with  doing  her  work,  and  went  and  got  the  cheese 
and  the  plates  and  the  whisky,  while  Scarlett,  with  a  hun- 
dred endearing  phrases,  was  helping  Sheila  to  take  off  her 
traveling  things.  And  Sheila,  it  turned  out,  had  brought 
with  her,  in  her  portmanteau,  certain  huge  and  wonderful 
cakes,  not  of  oatmeal,  from  Glasgow;  and  these  were  soon  on 
the  great  table  in  the  kitchen,  and  Sheila  herself  dibtributi'^g 
pieces  to  those  small  folks  who  were  so  awe-stricken  by  the 
sight  of  this  strange  dainty  that  they  forgot  their  injunctions 
and  thanked  her  timidly  in  Gaelic. 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  4II 

"Well,  Sheila,  my  lass,"  said  her  father  to  her,  as  they 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  house  and  watched  the  troop  ot 
their  friends,  children  and  all,  go  over  the  hill  to  Borvapost 
in"  the  red  light  of  the  sunset,  "and  are  you  glad  to  be  home 
again  ?" 

'•  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  heartily  enough,  and  Mackenzie 
thought  that  things  were  going  on  favorably. 

"You  hef  no  such  sunsets  in  the  South,  Sheila,"  he  ob- 
served, loftily  casting  his  eyes  around,  although  he  did  not 
usually  pay  much  attent'on  to  the  picturesqueness  of  his 
native  island.  *'  Now  look  at  the  light  on  Suainabhal.  Do 
you  see  the  red  on  the  water  down  there.  Sheila?  Oh,  yes; 
I  thought  you  would  say  it  wass  ferry  beautiful — it  is  a  ferry 
good  color  on  the  water.  The  water  looks  ferry  well  when 
it  is  red.  You  hef  no  such  things  in  London — not  any, 
Sheila.  Now,  we  must  go  in-doors,  for  these  things  you  can 
see  any  day  here,  and  we  must  not  keep  our  friends  waiting." 

An  ordinary,  dull-witted  or  careless  man  might  have  been 
glad  to  have  a  little  quiet  after  so  long  and  tedious  a  journey, 
but  Mr.  Mackenzie  was  no  such  person.  He  had  resolved  to 
guard  against  Sheila's  first  evening  at  home  being  in  any  way 
languid  or  monotonous,  and  so  he  had  asked  one  or  two  of 
his  especial  friends  to  remain  and  have  supper  with  them. 
Moreover,  he  did  not  wish  the  girl  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
evening  out  of  doors  when  the  melancholy  time  of  the  twi- 
light drew  over  the  hills,  and  the  sea  began  to  sound  remote 
and  sad.  Sheila  should  have  a  comfortable  evening  in-doors; 
and  he  would  himself,  after  supper,  when  the  small  parlor 
was  well  lit  up,  sing  for  her  one  or  two  songs,  just  to  keep  the 
thing  going,  as  it  were.  He  would  let  nobody  else  sing. 
These  Gaelic  songs  were  not  the  sort  of  music  to  make  peo- 
ple cheerful.     And  if  Sheila  herself  would  sing  for  them  ? 

And  Sheila  did.  And  her  father  chose  the  songs  for  her, 
and  they  were  the  blithest  he  could  find,  and  the  girl  seemed 
really  in  excellent  spirits.  They  had  their  pipes  and  hot 
whisky  and  water  in  this  little  parlor;  Mr.  Mackenzie  ex- 
plaining that  although  his  daughter  was  accustomed  to  spa- 
cious and  gilded  drawing-rooms  where  such  a  thing  was  im- 
possible, she  would  do  anything  to  make  her  friends  welcome 
and  comfortable,and  they  might  fill  their  glasses  and  their  pipes 
with  impunity.  And  Sheila  sang  again  and  again,  all  cheer- 
ful and  sensible  English  songs,  and  she  listened  to  the  odd 


412  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

jokes  and  stories  her  friends  had  to  tell  her;  and  Mackenzie 
was  delighted  with  the  success  of  his  plans  and  precautions. 
Was  not  her  very  appearance  now  a  triumph?  She  was 
laughing,  smiling,  talking  to  every  one;  he  had  not  seen  her 
so  happy  for  many  a  day. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  when  the  night  had  come  apace, 
what  was  this  wild  skirl  outside  that  made  everybody  start? 
Mackenzie  jumped  to  his  feet,  with  an  angry  vow  in  his 
heart  that  if  this  "  teffle  of  a  piper,  John  "  should  come  down 
the  hill  playing  "  Lochaber  no  more,''  or  "Cha  til  mi 
tuladh,"  or  any  other  mournful  tune,  he  would  have  his 
chanter  broken  in  a  thousand  splinters  over  his  head.  But 
what  was  the  wild  air  that  came  nearer  and  nearer,  until  John 
marched  into  the  house,  and  came,  with  ribbons  and  pipes, 
to  the  very  door  of  the  room,  which  was  flung  open  to  him? 
Not  a  very  appropriate  air,  perhaps,  for  it  was 

The  CampLlls  are  coming,  oho!  oho! 

The  Campbells  are  coming,  oho!  oho! 

The  Campbells  are  coming  to  bonny  Lochleven. 

The  Campbells  are  coming,  oho!  oho! 

But  it  was,  to  Mr.  Mackenzie's  rare  delight,  a  right  good 
joyous  tune,  and  it  was  meant  as  a  welcome  to  Sheila  ;  and 
forthwith  he  caught  the  white-haired  piper  by  the  shoulder, 
and  dragged  him  in,  and  said  :  "Put  down  your  pipes,  and 
come  into  the  house,  John — put  down  your  pipes  and  tek  off 
your  bonnet,  and  we  shall  hef  a  good  dram  together  this 
night,  by  Kott  !  And  it  is  Sheila  herself  will  pour  out  the 
whisky  for  you,  John  ;  and  she  is  a  good  Highland  girl,  and 
she  knows  the  piper  was  never  born  that  could  be  hurt  by 
whisky,  and  the  whisky  was  never  yet  made  that  could  hurt  a 
piper.     What  do  you  say  to  that,  John  ?" 

John  did  not  answer  ;  he  was  standing  before  Sheila  with 
his  bonnet  in  his  hand,  but  with  his  pipes  still  proudly  over 
his  shoulder.  And  he  took  the  glass  from  her  and  called  out 
"  Shlainte  !"  and  drained  every  drop  of  it  out,  to  welcome 
Mackenzie's  daughter  home. 


A     PRINCESS    or     TIIULE.  41 J 


PART  XI. 


CHAPTER  XXV, 

THE   VOYAGE   OF    THE   PHCEBE. 

It  was  a  cold  morning  in  January,  and  up  here  among  the 
Jura  hills  the  clouds  had  melted  into  a  small  and  chilling 
rain  that  fell  ceaselessly.  The  great  "Paps  of  Jura"  were 
hidden  in  the  mist;  even  the  valleys  near  at  hand  were  vague 
and  dismal  in  the  pale  fog;  and  the  Sound  of  Islay,  lying 
below,  and  the  far  sea  beyond,  were  gradually  growing  indis- 
tinguishable. In  a  rude  little  shelling,  built  on  one  of  the 
plateaus  of  rock,  Frank  Lavender  sat  alone,  listening  to  the 
plashing  of  the  rain  without.  A  rifle  that  he  had  just  care- 
fully dried  lay  across  his  knees.  A  brace  of  deer-hounds 
had  stretched  out  their  paws  on  the  earthen  floor,  and  had 
put  their  long  noses  between  their  paws  to  produce  a  little 
warmth.  It  was,  indeed,  a  cold  and  damp  morning,  and  the 
little  hut  was  pervaded  with  a  smell  of  wet  wood  and  also  of 
peat  ashes,  for  one  of  the  gillies  had  tried  to  light  a  fire,  but 
the  peats  had  gone  out. 

It  was  Lavender  who  had  let  the  fire  go  out.  '  He  had 
forgotten  it.  He  was  thinking  of  other  things — of  a  song, 
mostly,  that  Sheila  used  to  sing,  and  lines  of  it  went  hither 
and  thither  through  his  brain  as  he  recalled  the  sound  of 
her  voice: 

Haste  to  thy  barque. 

Coastwise  sieer  not: 
Sail  wide  of  Mull, 
Jura  near  not! 

Farewell,  she  said, 

Her  last  pang  subduing, 
Brave  Mac  Intyre, 

Costly  thy  wooing ! 

There  came  into  the  shelling  a  little,  wiry  old  keeper 


414  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

with  shaggy  gray  hair  and  keen  black  eyes.  "Cosh  bless 
me!"  he  said,  petulantly,  as  he  wrung  the  rain  out  of  his 
bonnet,  "  you  hef  let  the  peats  go  out,  Mr.  Lavender,  and 
who  will  tell  when  the  rain  will  go  off  ?" 

"It  can't  last  long,  Neil.  It  came  on  too  suddenly  for 
that.  I  thought  we  were  going  to  get  one  fine  day  when  we 
started  this  morning,  but  you  don't  often  manage  that  here, 
Neil." 

"  Indeed,  no,  sir,"  said  Neil,  who  was  not  a  native  of 
Jura,  and  was  as  eager  as  any  one  to  abuse  the  weather  pre- 
vailing there:  "  it  is  a  ferry  bad  place  for  the  weather.  If 
the  Ahnichty  were  to  tek  the  sun  away  a'  tagether,  it  would 
be  days  and  weeks  and  days  before  you  would  find  it  oot. 
But  it  iss  a  good  thing,  sir,  you  will  get  the  one  stag  before 
the  mist  came  down;  and  he  is  not  a  stag,  mirover,  but  a 
fine  big  hart,  and  a  royal,  too,  and  I  hef  not  seen  many  finer 
in  the  Jura  hiils.  Oh,  yes,  sir,  when  he  wass  crossing  the 
burn  I  made  out  his  points  ferry  well,  and  I  wass  saying  to 
myself,  'Now,  if  Mr.  Lavender  will  get  this  one,  it  will  be  a 
grand  day  this  day,  and  it  will  make  up  for  many  a  wet  day 
among  the  hills.' " 

"  They  haven't  come  back  with  the  pony  yet?''  Lavender 
asked,  laying  down  his  gun  and  going  to  the  door  of  the  hut. 
''  Oh,  no,"  Neil  said,  following  him.  "  It  iss  a  long  way 
to  get  the  powny,  and  maybe  they  will  stop  at  IMr.  MacDou- 
gall's  to  hef  a  dram.  And  Mr,  MacDougall  was  saying  to 
me  yesterday  that  the  fcriy  next  time  you  wass  shoot  a  royal 
he  would  hef  the  horns  dressed  and  the  head  stuffed  to  make 
you  a  present,  for  he  is  ferry  p'-oud  of  the  picture  of  Miss 
Margaret;  and  he  will  say  to  me  many's  sa  time  that  I  wass 
to  gif  you  the  ferry  best  shooting,  and  not  to  be  afraid  of 
disturbing  sa  deer  when  you  had  a  mind  to  go  out.  And  I 
am  not  sure,  sir,  we  will  not  get  another  stag  to  tek  down 
with  us  yet,  if  the  wind  would  carry  away  the  mist,  for  the 
rain  that  is  nearly  on  now;  and  as  you  are  ferry  wet,  sir, 
already,  it  is  no  matter  if  we  go  down  through  the  glen  and 
cross  the  water  to  get  the  side  of  Ben  Bheulah." 

"That  is  true  enough,  Neil,  and  I  fancy  the  clouds  are 
beginning  to  lift.     And  there  they  come  with  the  pony." 

Neil  directed  his  glass  toward  a  small  group  that  appeared 
to  be  coming  up  the  side  of  the  valley  below  them,  and  that 
was  still  at  some  considerable  diotance. 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  4^5 

"  Cosh  bless  me!"  he  cried,  "  what  is  that  ?  There  iss  two 
strangers — oh  yes,  indeed,  and  mirover — and  there  is  one 
of  them  on  the  pony," 

Lavender's  heart  leaped  within  him.  If  they  were 
strangers  they  were  coming  to  see  him,  and  how  long  was 
it  since  he  had  seen  the  face  of  any  of  his  old  friends  and 
companions?     It  seemed  to  him  years. 

"  Is  it  a  man  or  a  woman  on  the  pony,  Neil  ?"  he  asked 
hurriedly,  with  some  wild  fancy  flashing  through  his  brain. 
"  Give  me  the  glass.'' 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  man,"  said  Neil,  handing  over  the  glass, 
"  What  would  a  woman  be  doing  up  sa  hills  on  a  morning 
like  this?" 

The  small  party  below  came  up  out  of  the  gray  mist,  and 
Lavender  in  the  distance  heard  a  long  view-halloo. 

'*  Cott  tam  them!"  said  Neil,  at  a  venture.  "  There  is  not 
a  deer  on  Benan  Cabrach  that  will  not  hear  them." 

"  But  if  these  strangers  are  coming  to  see  me,  I  fear  we 
must  leave  the  deer  alone,  Neil." 

'•'  Ferry  well,  sir,  ferry  well,  sir;  it  is  a  bad  day  whatever, 
and  it  is  not  many  strangers  will  come  to  Jura.  I  suppose 
they  hef  come  to  Port  Ascaig,  and  taken  the  ferry  across  the 
sound." 

"  I  am  going  to  meet  them  on  chance,"  Lavender  said ; 
and  set  off  along  the  side  of  the  deep  valley,  leaving  Neil 
with  the  dogs  and  the  r.fles. 

"Hillo,  Johnny  !"  he  cried,  in  amazement,  when  he  came 
upon  the  advancing  group.  "Ana  you  too,  Mosenberg  ! 
By  Jove,  how  did  you  ever  get  here  ;"' 

There  was  an  abundance  of  handsnaking  and  incoherent 
questions  when  young  Mosenberg  jumped  down  on  the  wet 
heather,  and  the  three  friends  had  actually  met.  Lavender 
scarcely  knew  what  to  say,  these  two  faces  were  so  strange, 
and  yet  so  familiar — their  appearance  there  was  so  unex- 
pected, his  pleasure  so  great. 

"  I  can't  believe  my  eyes  yet,  Johnny.  Why  did  you  bring 
him  here  ?  Don't  you  know  what  you'll  have  to  put  up  witii 
in  this  place?  Well,  this  does  do  a  fellow's  heart  good!  I 
am  awfully  pleased  to  see  you,  and  it  is  very  kind  of  you.'' 

"  But  I  am  very  cold,"  the  handsome  Jew  boy  said,  swing- 
ing his  arms  and  stamping  his  feet.  "Wet  boats,  wet  carts, 
wet  roads,  wet  saddles,  and     everywhere  cold,  cold,  cold." 


4l6  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  And  he  won't  drink  whisky ;  so  what  is  he  to  expect  ?* 
Johnny  Eyre  said. 

**  Come  along  up  to  a  little  hut  here,"  Lavender  said,  "  and 
we'll  try  to  get  a  fire  lit.     And  I  have  some  brandy  there." 

"And  you  have  plenty  of  water  to  mix  with  it,"  said  the 
boy,  looking  mournfully  around.  "  Very  good.  Let  us 
have  the  fire  and  the  warm  drink ;  and  then — you  know  the 
story  of  the  music  that  was  frozen  in  the  trumpet,  and  that 
all  came  out  when  it  was  thawed  at  a  fire?  When  we  get 
warm  we  have  very  great  news  to  tell  you — oh,  very  great 
news  indeed." 

"I  don't  want  any  news — I  want  your  company.  Coma 
along,  like  good  fellows,  and  leave  the  news  for  afterward. 
The  men  are  going  on  with  a  pony  to  fetch  a  stag  that  has 
been  shot;  they  won't  be  back  for  an  hour,  I  suppose,  at  the 
soonest.  This  is  the  shelling  up  here  where  the  brandy  is 
secreted.  Now,  Neil,  help  us  to  get  up  a  blaze.  If  any  of  you 
have  newspapers,  letters,  or  anything  that  will  set  a  few  sticks 
on  fire — " 

**  I  have  a  box  of  wax  matches,"  Johnny  said,  "  and  I 
know  how  to  light  a  peat-fire  better  than  any  man  in  the 
country." 

He  was  not  very  successful  at  first,  for  the  peats  were  a 
trifle  damp;  but  in  the  end  he  conquered,  and  a  very  fair 
blaze  was  produced,  although  the  smoke  that  had  filled  the 
shelling  had  nearly  blinded  Mosenberg's  eyes.  Then  Lav- 
ender produced  a  small  tin  pot  and  a  solitary  tumbler,  and 
they  boiled  some  water  and  lit  their  pipes,  and  made  them- 
selves seats  of  peat  around  the  fire.  All  the  while  a  brisk 
conversation  was  going  on,  some  portions  of  which  aston- 
ished Lavender  considerably. 

For  months  back,  indeed,  he  had  almost  cut  himself  off 
from  the  civilized  world.  His  address  was  known  to  one  or 
two  persons,  and  sometimes  they  sent  him  a  letter;  but  he 
was  a  bad  correspondent.  The  news  of  his  aunt's  death  did 
not  reach  him  till  a  fortnight  after  the  funeral,  and  then  it 
was  by  a  singular  chance  that  he  noticed  it  in  the  columns  of 
an  old  newspaper.  "That  is  the  only  thing  I  regret  about 
coming  av/ay,"  he  was  saying  to  those  two  friends  of  his. 
"I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  old  woman  before  she  died; 
she  was  very  kind  to  me,'' 

*'  Well,"  said  Johnny  Eyre,  with  a  shake  of    the   head. 


A    PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  417 

"that  is  all  very  well;  but  a  mere  outsider  like  myself — you 
see,  it  looks  to  me  a  little  unnatural  that  she  should  go  and 
leave  her  money  to  a  mere  friend,  and  not  to  her  ov/n  rela- 
tions." 

"lam  very  glad  she  did,"  Lavender  said.  "I  had  as 
good  as  asked  her  to  do  it  long  before.  And  Ted  Ingram 
will  make  a  better  use  of  it  than  I  ever  did."' 

"  It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  so  now,  after  all  this  fuss 
about  those  two  pictures;  but  suppose  she  had  left  you  to 
starve  ?" 

"  Never  mind  suppositions,"  Lavender  said,  to  get  rid  of 
the  subject,  "  Tell  me,  Mosenberg,  how  is  that  overture  of 
yours  getting  on?" 

"It  is  nearly  finished,"  said  the  lad,  with  a  flush  of  pleas- 
ure, "  and  I  have  shown  it  in  rough  to  two  or  three  good 
friends,  and — shall  I  tell  you  ? — it  may  be  performed  at  the 
Crystal  Palace.  But  that  is  a  chance.  And  the  fate  of  it, 
that  is  also  a  chance.  But  you — you  have  succeeded  all  at 
once,  and  brilliantly,  and  all  the  world  is  talking  of  you  and 
yet  you  go  away  among  mountains,  and  live  in  the  cold  and 
wet,  and  you  might  as  well  be  dead.'' 

"What  an  ungrateful  boy  it  is  !"  Lavender  cried.  "  Here 
you  have  a  comfortable  fire,  and  hot  brandy-and-water,  and 
biscuits,  and  cigars  if  you  wish;  and  you  talk  about  people 
wishing  to  leave  these  things  and  die  !  Don't  you  know  that 
in  half  an  hour's  time  you  will  see  that  pony  come  back  with 
a  deer — a  royal  hart — slung  across  it;  and  won't  you  be 
proud  when  MacDougall  takes  you  out  and  gives  you  a  chance 
of  driving  home  such  a  prize  ?  Then  you  will  carry  the  horns 
back  to  London,  and  you  will  have  them  put  up,  and  you 
will  discourse  to  your  friends  of  the  span  and  the  pearls  of 
the  antlers  and  the  crockets.  To-night  after  supper  you  will 
see  the  horns  and  the  head  brought  into  the  room,  and  if 
you  fancy  that  you  yourself  shot  the  stag,  you  will  see  that 
this  life  among  the  hills  has  its  compensations." 

"It  is  a  very  cold  life,"  the  lad  said,  passing  his  hands 
over  the  fire. 

"  That  is  because  you  won't  drink  anything,"  said  Johnny 
Eyre,  against  whom  no  such  charge  could  be  wrought.  "  And 
don't  you  know  that  the  drinking  of  whisky  is  a  provision 
invented  by  Nature  to'guard  human  beings  like  you  and  me 
from  cold  and  wet?  You  are  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence 
if  you  don't  drink  whisky  among  the  Scotch  hills." 


4l8  A    PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

"And  have  you  people  to  talk  to?"  said  Mosenberg,  look- 
ing at  Lavender  with  a  vague  wonder,  for  he  could  not  un- 
derstand why  any  man  could  choose  such  a  life. 

"  Not  many." 

"  What  do  you  do  on  the  long  evenmgs  when  you  are  by 
yourself?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  very  cheerful,  but  it  does  a  man  good  ser- 
vice sometimes  to  be  alone  for  a  time  ;  it  lets  him  find  him- 
self out." 

"You  ought  to  be  up  in  London,  to  hear  all  the  praise  of 
the  people  about  your  two  pictures.  Every  one  is  talking  of 
them  ;  the  newspapers,  too.  Have  you  seen  the  news- 
papers ?" 

"  One  or  two.  But  all  I  know  of  these  two  pictures  is  de- 
rived from  offers  forwarded  me  by  the  secretary  at  the  ex- 
hibition rooms.  I  was  surprised  when  I  got  them  at  first. 
But  never  mind  them.  Tell  me  more  about  the  people  one 
used  to  know.  What  about  Ingram  now  ?  Has  he  cut  the 
Board  of  Trade  ?  Does  he  drive  in  the  Park  ?  Is  he  still  in 
his  rooms  in  Sloane  Street?" 

"  Then  you  hiive  had  no  letters  from  him  ?"  Mosenberg 
said,  with  some  surprise. 

**No.  Probably  he  does  not  know  where  lam.  In  any 
case — " 

"  But  he  is  going  to  be  married,"  Mosenberg  cried.  "  You 
did  not  know  that.     And  to  Mrs.  Lorraine." 

"  You  don't  say  so?  Why,  he  used  to  hate  her;  but  thai 
was  before  he  knew  her.     To  Mrs.  Lorraine  ?" 

"  Yes.  And  it  is  amusing.  She  is  so  proud  of  him.  And 
if  he  speaks  at  the  table  she  will  turn  away  from  you,  as  i( 
you  were  not  worth  listening  to,  and  have  all  her  attention 
for  him.  And  whatever  is  his  opinion,  she  will  defend  that, 
and  you  must  not  disagree  with  her.  Oh,  it  is  very  amus 
ing  !"  and  the  lad  laughed  and  shook  back  his  curls. 

"  It  is  an  odd  thing,''  Lavender  said  :  "  but  many  a  time, 
long  before  Ingram  ever  saw  Mrs.  Lorraine,  I  used  to  imaging 
these  two  married.  I  knew  she  was  just  the  sort  of  clever^ 
independent,  clear-headed  woman  to  see  Ingram's  strong 
points,  and  rate  them  at  their  proper  value.  But  I  never  ex- 
pected anything  of  the  sort,  of  course:  for  I  had  always  a 
notion  Aat  some  day  or  other  he  would  be  led  into  marry- 
ing some  pretty,  gentle,  soft-headed  young  thing,  whom  he 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  <  I9 

would  have  to  take  through  life  in  a  protecting  sort  of  way, 
and  who  would  never  be  a  real  companion  for  him  So  he 
is  to  marry  Mrs.  Lorraine,  after  all.  Well,  he  won't  become 
a  man  of  fashion,  despite  all  his  money.  He  is  sure  to  start 
a  yacht,  for  one  thing.  And  they  will  travel  a  deal.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  write  and  congratulate  him." 

"  I  met  them  on  the  day  I  went  to  see  your  picture,  "Mosen- 
berg  said.  "  Mrs.  Lorraine  was  looking  at  it  a  long  time,  and 
at  last  she  came  back  and  said,  '  The  sea  in  that  picture 
makes  me  feel  cold.'  That  was  a  compliment,  was  it  not? 
Only  you  c  innot  get  a  good  view  very  often,  for  the  people 
will  not  stand  back  from  the  pictures.  But  every  one  asks 
why  you  do  act  keep  these  two  over  for  the  Academy." 

"  I  shall  have  other  two  for  the  Academy,  I  hope." 

"  Com.missions?"  Johnny  asked  with  a  practical  air. 

"  No.  I  have  had  some  offers,  bur  I  prefer  to  leave  the 
the  thing  open.  But  you  ha-'e  not  told  me  how  you  got  here 
yet,"  Lavender  added,  continually  breaking  away  from  the 
subject  of  the  pictures. 

"In  the  Phoebe,'  Eyre  said. 

"  Is  she  in  the  bay  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.  We  had  to  leave  her  at  Port  Ellen  to  get  a  few 
small  repairs  done,  and  Mosenberg  and  I  came  on  by 
road  to  Port  Ascaig.  Mind  you,  she  was  quite  small  enough 
to  come  round  the  Mull  at  this  time  of  year." 

"  I  should  think  so.     What's  your  crew  ?" 

*'Two  men  and  a  lad,  besides  Mosenberg  and  myself;  and 
I  can  tell  you  we  had  our  hands  full  sometimes." 

"  You've  given  up  open  boats  with  stone  ballast,  now," 
Lavender  said  with  a  laugh. 

"Rather.  But  it  was  no  laughing  matter,"  Eyre  added, 
with  a  sudden  gravity  coming  over  his  face.  "It  was  the 
narrowest  squeak  I  ever  had,  and  I  don't  know  now  how  I 
clung  on  to  that  place  till  the  day  broke.  When  I  came  to 
myself  and  called  out  for  you,  I  never  expected  to  hear  you 
answer;  and  in  the  darkness,  by  Jove  !  your  voice  sounded 
like  the  voice  of  a  ghost.  How  you  managed  to  drag  me  so 
far  up  that  sea-weed  I  can't  imagine;  and  then  the  dipping 
down  and  under  the  boat — '' 

"  It  was  that  dip  down  that  saved  me,"  Lavender  said.  "  It 
brought  me  tOj  and  made  me  scramble  like  a  rat  up  the  other 
side  as  soon  as  I  felt  my  hands  on  the  rock  again.     It  was  a 


420  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

narrow  squeak,  as  you  say,  Johnny.  Do  you  remember  how 
black  the  place  looked  when  the  first  light  began  to  show  in 
the  sky?  and  how  we  kept  each  other  awake  by  calling?  and 
how  you  called  *  Hurrah!"  when  we  heard  Donald  ?  and  how 
strange  it  was  to  find  ourselves  so  near  the  mouth  of  the  harbor, 
after  all  ?  During  the  night  I  fancied  we  must  have  been 
thrown  on  Battle  Island,  you  know." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  hear  about  that,"  young  Mosenberg  said. 
"  And  always,  if  the  wind  came  on  strong  or  if  the  skies 
grew  black.  Eyre  would  tell  me  all  the  story  over  again  when 
we  were  in  the  boat  coming  down  by  Arran  and  Cantyre. 
Let  us  go  out  and  see  if  they  come  with  the  deer.  Has  the 
rain  stopped?" 

At  this  moment,  indeed,  sounds  of  the  approaching  party . 
were  heard,  and  when  Lavender  and  his  friends  went  to  the 
door  the  pony,  with  the  deer  slung  on  to  him,  was  just  com- 
ing up.  It  was  a  sufficiently  picturesque  sight — the  rude 
little  sheiUng  with  its  peat  fire,  the  brown  and  wiry  gillies, 
the  slain  deer  roped  on  to  the  pony,  and  all  around  the  wild 
magnificence  of  hill  and  valley  clothed  in  moving  mists. 
The  rain  had  indeed  cleared  off,  but  these  pale  white  fogs 
still  clung  around  the  mountains  and  rendered  the  valleys 
vague,  and  Lavender  informed  Neil  that  he  would 
make  no  further  effort  that  day;  he  gave  the  men  a 
glass  of  whisky  all  round,  and  then,  with  his  friends,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  make  his  way  down  to  the  small  white  cottage 
fronting  the  Sound  of  Islay,  which  had  been  his  home  for 
months  back. 

Just  before  setting  off,  however,  he  managed  to  take  young 
Mosenberg  aside  for  a  moment.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  with 
his  eyes  cast  down — "  I  suppose  you  heard  something  from 
Ingram  of — of  >  heila  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lad,  rather  bashfully.  **  Ingram  had  heard 
from  her.     She  was  still  in  Lewis." 

"And  well?" 

"I  think  so — yes,"  said  Mosenberg;  and  then  he  added, 
with  some  hesitation,  "  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  about 
it  when  we  have  the  opportunity.  There  were  some  things 
that  Mr.  Ingram  said — I  am  sure  he  would  like  you  to  know 
them." 

"  There  was  no  message  to  me  ?"  Lavender  asked,  in  a  low 
voice. 


A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE.  421 

"  From  her  ?  No.  But  it  was  the  opinion  of  Mr.  In« 
gram — " 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,  Mosenberg,"  said  the  other,  turn-i 
ing  away  wearily.  "  I  suppose  you  won't  find  it  too  fatiguing 
to  walk  from  here  back?  It  will  warm  you,  you  know,  and 
the  old  woman  down  there  will  get  you  something  to  eat. 
You  may  make  it  luncheon  or  dinner,  as  you  like,  for  it  will 
be  nearly  two  by  the  time  you  get  down.  Then  you  can  go 
for  a  prowl  around  the  coast:  if  it  does  not  rain  I  shall  be 
working  as  long  as  there  is  daylight.  Then  we  can  have  a 
dinner  and  supper  combined  in  the  evening.  You  will  get 
venison  and  whisky,' 

"  Don't  you  ever  have  anything  else  ?" 

*' Oh,  yes,  the  venison  will  be  in  honor  of  you:  I  gener- 
ally have  mutton  and  whisky." 

"  Look  here,  Lavender,"  the  lad  said,  with  considerable 
confusion,  "  the  fact  is.  Eyre  and  I — we  brought  you  a  few 
things  in  the  Phoebe — a  little  wine,  you  know,  and  some 
such  things.  To-morrow,  if  you  could  get  a  passenger  to 
go  down  to  Port  Ellen — but  no.  I  suppose  we  must  go  and 
work  the  boat  up  the  sound." 

"  If  you  do  that,  I  must  go  with  you,"  Lavender  said, 
"  for  the  chances  are  that  your  skipper  doesn't  know  the 
currents  in  the  sound;  and  they  are  rather  peculiar,  I  can 
tell  you.  So  Johnny  and  you  have  brought  me  some  wine? 
I  wish  we  had  it  now,  to  celebrate  your  arrival,  for  I  am 
afraid  I  can  offer  you  nothing  but  whisky." 

The  old  Highland  woman  who  had  charge  of  the  odd  lit- 
tle cottage  in  which  Lavender  lived  was  put  into  a  state  of 
violent  consternation  by  the  arrival  of  these  two  strangers; 
but  as  Lavender  said  he  would  sleep  on  a  couple  of  chairs 
and  g  vehis  bed  to  Mosenberg  and  the  sofa  to  Eyre,  and  as 
Mosenberg  declared  that  the  house  was  a  marvel  of  neatness 
and  comfort,  and  as  Johnny  assured  her  that  he  had  frequently 
slept  in  a  herring-barrel,  she  grew  gradually  pacified.  There 
was  a  little  difficulty  about  plates  and  knives  and  forks  at 
luncheon,  which  consisted  of  cold  mutton  and  two  bottles 
of  ale  that  had  somehow  been  overlooked;  but  all  these 
minor  inconveniences  were  soon  smoothed  over,  and  then 
Lavender,  carrying  his  canvas  under  his  arm  and  a  portable 
easel  over  his  shoulder,  went  down  to  the  shore,  bade  his 
companions  good-bye  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  left  them 
to  explore  the  winding  and  rocky  coast  ot  Jura. 


422  A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

In  the  evening  they  had  dinner  in  a  small  parlor,  which 
was  pretty  well  filled  with  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  sofa  and  a 
series  of  large  canvases.  There  was  a  peat-fire  burning  in 
the  grate  and  two  candles  on  the  table,  but  the  small  room 
did  not  get  oppressively  hot,  for  each  time  the  door  was 
opened  a  draught  of  cold  sea-air  rushed  in  from  the  passage, 
sometimes  blowing  out  one  of  the  candles,  but  always  sweet- 
ening the  atmosphere.  Then  Johnny  had  some  fine  tobacco 
with  him,  and  Mosenberg  had  brought  Lavender  a  present  of 
a  meerschaum  pipe,  and  presently  a  small  kettle  of  hot 
water  was  put  in  requisition,  and  the  friends  drew  round  the  fire. 

"Well,  it  is  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  a  fellow  like 
this,"  Lavender  said,  with  a  very  apparent  and  hearty  grati- 
tude in  his  face.  "  I  can  scarcely  believe  my  eyes  that  it  is 
true.  And  can  you  make  any  stay,  Johnny?  Have  you 
brought  your  colors  with  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  1  don't  mean  to  work,"  Johnny  said.     ''I  have 
always  had  a  fancy  for  a  mid-winter  cruise.     It's  a  hardening 
sort  of  thing,  you  know.     You  soon  get  used  to  it,  don't  you,  * 
Mosenberg?''     And  Johnny  grinned. 

"Not  yet — I  may  afterward,"  said  the  lad.  "  But  at  pres- 
ent this  is  more  comfortable  than  being  on  deck  at  night 
when  it  rains  and  you  know  not  where  you  are  going." 

"  But  that  was  only  your  own  perversity.  You  might  just 
as  well  have  stopped  in  the  cabin,  and  played  that  cornopean, 
and  made  yourstlf  warm  and  comfortable.  Really,  Laven- 
der, it's  very  good  fun,  and  if  you  only  watch  for  decent 
weather  you  can  go  anywhere.  Fancy  our  coming  around 
the  Mull  with  the  Phoebe  yesterday!  And  we  had  quite  a 
pleasant  trip  across  lo  Islay." 

"And  where  do  }'0u  propose  to  go  after  leaving  Jura?" 
Lavender  asked. 

"  Well,  you  know  the  main  object  of  our  cruise  was  to 
come  and  see  you.  But  if  you  care  to  come  with  us  for  a  few 
days,  we  will  go  wherever  you  like." 

"  If  you  are  going  farther  North,  I  must  go  with  you," 
Lavender  said,  "for  you  are  bound  to  drown  yourself  some 
day,  Johnny,  if  some  one  doesn't  take  care  of  you." 

There  was  no  deep  design  in  this  project  of  Johnny's,  but 
he  had  had  a  vague  impression  that  Lavender  might  like  to 
go  North,  if  only  to  have  a  passing  glimpse  at  the  island  he 
used  to  know. 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  423 

"  One  of  my  fellows  is  well  acquainted  with  the  Hebrides," 
he  said.  "  If  you  don't  think  it  too  much  of  a  risk,  I  should 
like  it  myself,  for  those  Northern  islands  must  look  uncom- 
monly wild  and  savage  in  Winter,  and  one  likes  to  have  new 
experiences.  Fancy,  Mosenberg,  v/hat  material  you  will  get 
for  your  next  piece;  it  will  be  full  of  storms  and  seas  and 
thunder.  You  know  how  the  wind  whistles  through  the  over- 
ture to  the  Diaviants  de  la  Couronne?'' 

"  It  will  whistle  through  us,"  said  the  boy,  with  an  antici- 
patory shiver,  "  but  I  do  not  mind  the  wind  if  it  is  not  wet. 
It  is  the  wet  that  makes  a  boat  so  disagreeable.  Everything 
is  so  cold  and  clammy ;  you  can  touch  nothing,  and  when 
you  put  your  head  up  in  the  morning,  pah!  a  dash  of  rain 
and  mist  and  salt  water  altogether  gives  you  a  shock.'' 

"What  made  you  come  around  the  Mull,  Johnny,  instead 
of  cutting  through  the  Crinan  ?"  Lavender  asked  of  his 
friend. 

"  Well,"  said  the  youth,  modestly,  "  nothing,  except  that 
two  or  three  men  said  we  couldn't  do  it." 

"  I  thought  so,"  Lavender  said.  "  And  I  see  I  must  go 
with  you,  Johnny.  You  must  play  no  more  of  these  tricks. 
You  must  watch  your  time,  and  run  her  quietly  up  the  Sound 
of  Jura  to  Crinan;  and  watch  again,  and  get  her  up  to  Oban; 
and  watch  again,  and  get  her  up  to  Loch  Sligachan.  Then 
you  may  consider.  It  is  quite  possible  you  may  have  fine, 
clear  weather  if  there  is  a  moderate  Northeast  wind  blow- 
ing—" 

"A  Northeast  wind!"  Mosenberg  cried. 

"  Yes,"  Lavender  replied,  confidently,  for  he  had  not 
forgotten  what  Sheila  used  to  teach  him,  "that  is  your  only 
chance.  If  you  have  been  living  in  fog  and  rain  tor  a  fort- 
night you  will  never  forget  your  gratitude  to  a  Northeaster 
when  it  suddenly  sets  in  to  lift  the  clouds  and  show  you  a 
bit  of  blue  sky.  But  it  may  knock  us  about  a  bit  in  crossing 
the  Minch." 

"We  have  come  around  the  Mull,  and  we  can  go  any- 
where," Johnny  said.  "I'd  back  the  Phoebe  to  take  you 
safely  to  the  West  Indies;  wouldn't  you,  Mosenberg?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  the  boy  said.  "  I  would  back  her  to  take  you, 
not  to  take  me." 

Two  or  three  days  thereafter  the  Phoebe  was  brought  up 
the  sound  from  Port  Ellen,  and  such  things  as  were  meant  as 


424  A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE. 

a  present  to  Lavender  were  landed.  Then  the  three  friends 
embarked,  for  the  weather  had  cleared  considerably,  and 
there  was  indeed,  when  they  set  out,  a  pale  wintry  sunshine 
gleaming  on  the  sea  and  on  the  white  deck  and  spars  of  the 
handsome  little  cutter  which  Johnny  commanded.  The 
Phoebe  was  certainly  a  great  improvement  on  the  crank  craft 
in  which  he  used  to  adventure  his  life  on  LochFyne;  she  was 
big  enough,  indeed,  to  ^ive  plenty  of  work  to  everybody  on 
board  01  her;  and  when  she  had  once  got  into  harbor  and 
things  put  to  rights,  her  chief  stateroom  proved  a  jolly  and 
comfortable  little  place  enough.  They  had  some  pleasant 
evenings  in  this  way  after  the  work  of  the  day  was  over, 
when  the  swinging  lamps  shone  down  on  the  table  that  was 
furnished  with  glasses,  bottles  cigars  and  cards.  Johnny 
was  very  proud  of  being  in  command  and  of  hii  exploit  in 
doubling  the  Mull.  He  was  continually  consulting  charts 
and  compasses,  and  going  on  deck  to  communicate  his  last 
opinion  to  his  skipper.  Mosenberg,  too,  was  getting  better 
accustomed  to  the  hardships  of  yachting,  and  learning  how 
to  secure  a  fair  amount  of  comfort.  Lavender  never  said 
that  he  wished  to  jo  near  Lewis,  but  there  was  a  lacit 
under:tanding  that  their  voyage  should  tend  in  that  direc- 
tion. 

They  had  a  little  rough  weather  on  reaching  Skye,  and  in 
consequence  remained  in  harbor  a  couple  of  days.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  a  happy  opportunity  presented  itself  of  cut- 
ting across  the  Little  Minch — the  Great  Minch  was  consid- 
ered a  trifle  ri.-ky — to  Loch  Maddy  in  North  Uist.  They 
were  now  in  the  Western  Islands,  and  strange  indeed  was 
the  appearance  which  the  bleak  region  presented  at  this 
til  le  of  the  year — the  lonely  coast,  the  multitudes  of  wild 
fowi,  the  half-savage,  wondering  inhabitants,  the  treeless 
wastes  and  desolate  rocks.  What  these  remote  and  melan- 
choly islands  might  have  looked  like  in  fog  and  mistv  rain 
could  only  be  imagined,  however,  for,  fortunately,  the  longed- 
for  Northeaster  had  set  in,  and  there  were  wan  glimmerings 
of  sunshine  across  the  sea  and  the  solitary  shores.  They  re- 
mained in  Loch  Maddy  but  a  single  day,  and  then,  still 
favored  by  a  brisk  Northeast  breeze,  made  their  way  through 
the  Sound  of  Harris  and  got  to  leeward  of  the  conjoint  island 
of  Harris  and  Lewis.  There,  indeed,  were  the  great  moun- 
tains which  Lavender  had  seen  many  a  time  from  the  North, 


'A  PRINCESS   01'   'IHULE.  425 

and  now  they  were  close  at  hand,  and  dark  and  forbidding. 
The  days  were  brief  at  this  time,  and  they  were  glad  to  put 
into  Loch  Resort,  which  Lavender  had  once  seen  in  company 
with  old  Mackenzie  when  they  had  come  into  the  neighbor- 
hood on  a  salmon-fishing  excursion. 

The  Plioebe  was  at  her  anchorage,  the  clatter  on  deck 
over,  and  Johnny  came  below  to  see  what  sort  of  repast  could 
be  got  for  the  evening.  It  was  not  a  very  grand  meal,  but 
he  said:  "  I  propose  that  we  have  a  bottle  of  champagne  to 
celebrate  our  arrival  at  the  island  of  Lewis.  Did  you  ever 
see  anything  more  successfully  done  ?  And  now,  if  this  wind 
continues,  wc  ^an  creep  up  to-morrow  to  Loch  Roag,  Laven- 
der, if  you  would  Hue  to  have  a  look  at  it." 

For  a  moment  the  color  forsook  Lavender's  face.  "No, 
thank  you,  Johnny,"  he  was  about  to  say,  when  his  friend 
interrupted  him;  "  Look  here,  Lavender;  I  know  you  would 
like  to  see  the  place,  and  you  can  do  it  easily  without  being 
seen.  No  one  knows  me.  When  we  anchor  in  the  bay,  I 
suppose  Mr.  Mackenzie — as  is  the  hospitable  and  praise- 
worthy custom  in  these  parts — will  send  a  message  to  the 
yacht  and  ask  us  to  dine  with  him.  I,  at  any  rate,  can  go 
■ip  and  call  on  him,  and  make  excuses  for  you;  and  then  I 
could  tell  you,  you  know — "  Johnny  hesitated. 

"Would  you  do  that  for  me,  Johnny ?"' Lavender  said. 
"  Well,  you  are  a  good  fellow  !'' 

"  Oh,"  Jolmny  said  lightly,  "  it's  a  capital  adventure  for 
me;  and  perhaps  could  ask  Mackenzie — Mr,  Mackenzie;  I 
beg  your  pardon — to  let  me  have  two  or  three  clay  pines,  for 
this  briar-roo':      rapidly  going  to  the  devil." 

''  He  will  give  you  anything  he  has  in  the  house;  you  never 
saw  such  a  hospitable  fellow,-  Johnny.  But  you  must  take 
great  care  what  you  do." 

"  You  must  trust  to  me.  In  the  meantime  let's  see  what 
Pate  knows  about  Loch  Roag." 

Johnny  called  down  his  skipper,  a  bluff,  short,  red-faced 
man,  who  presently  appeared,  his  cap  in  his  hand. 
*' Will  you  have  a  glass  of  champagne,  Pate  .'"' 
"Oh,  ay,  sir,"  he  said,  not  very  eagerly. 
*^  \;'ould  you  rather  have  a  glass  oiwhisky  ?" 
"  Well,  sir,"  Pate  said,  in  accents  that  showed  that  his 
Highland  pronunciation  had  been  corrupted  by  many  years' 
residence  in  Greenock,  "  1  was  thinkin'  '.he  whisky  was  a  wee 
thinty  better  for  ye  on  a  cauld  nicht." 


426  A     PRINCESS     OF   THULE, 

''Here  you  are,  then!  Now,  tell  me,  do  vou  knew  Loch 
Roag  ?» 

"Oh,  ay,  fine.  Many' s  the  time  I  hiv  been  in  to  Borva^ 
post," 

"  But, "said  Lavender,  "  do  you  know  the  loch  itself?  Do 
you  kr.ow  the  bay  on  which  Mackenzie's  house  stands?" 

"  Weel,  I'm  no'  sae  cure  aboot  that,  sir.  But  if  ye  want 
to  gang  there,  w;:  can  pick  up  some  bit  body  at  Borvapost 
that  will  tak'  us  around." 

"  Well,"  Lavender  said,  "  I  think  I  can  tell  you  how  to  go. 
I  know  the  channel  is  quite  simple — there  are  no  rocks 
about — and  once  you  are  round  the  point  you  will  see  your 
anchorage." 

"It's  twa  or  three  years  since  I  was  there,  sir,"  Pate  re- 
marked, as  he  put  the  glass  back  on  the  table.  "I  mind 
there  was  a  daft  auld  man  there  that  played  the  pipes." 

*-That  was  old  John  the  Piper,''  Lavender  said.  "Don't 
yo  •  remember  Mr.  Mackenzie,  whom  they  call  the  King  of 
Borva?" 

"  \v'eel,  sir,  I  never  saw  him,  but  I  was  aware  he  was  in 
the  'lace.  I  have  never  been  up  here  afore  wi'  a  party  of 
genl.cimen,  and  he  wasna  coming  down  to  see  the  like  o'  us." 

\.'ith  what  a  strange  feeling  Lavender  beheld,  the  following 
aftes  .lOon,  the  opening  to  the  great  loch  that  he  knev/  so  well! 
He  recognized  the  various  rocky  promontories,  the  Gaelic 
names  of  which  Sheila  had  translated  for  him.  Down  there 
in  the  South  were  the  great  heights  of  Suainabhal  and  Craca- 
bahl  and  Mealasabhal.  Right  in  front  was  the  sweep  of 
Borvapost  Bay,  and  its  huts  and  its  small  garden  patches;  and 
up  beyond  it  was  th;  hill  on  which  Sheila  used  to  sit  in  the 
evening  to  wa^ch  the  sun  go  down  behind  the  Atlantic.  It 
was  i  ke  entering  again  a  world  with  which  he  had  once  been 
familiar,  and  in  which  he  had  left  behind  a  peaceful  happi- 
ness he  had  sought  in  vain  elsewhere.  Somehow,  as  the  yacht 
di,  ped  to  the  waves  and  slowly  made  her  way  into  the  loch, 
it  sjemed  to  him  that  he  was  coming  home — that  he  was  re- 
turning to  the  old  and  quiet  joys  he  had  experienced  there 
•—that  all  the  past  time  that  had  darkened  his  life  was  now  to 
be  removed.  But  when,  at  last,  he  saw  Mackenzie's  house 
high  up  there  over  the  tiny  bay,  a  strange  thrill  of  excitement 
passed  through  hiui,  and  that  was  followed  by  a  cold  feeling 
of  despair,  which  he  did  not  seek  to  remove. 


A    PRINCESS    UK    THULE.  427 

He  stood  on  the  companion,  his  head  only  being  visible, 
and  directed  Pate  uniil  the  Piioebe  had  arrived  at  her  moor- 
ings^ and  then  ho  went  below.  He  had  looked  wistfully  for 
a  time  up  to  the  square,  dark  house,  with  its  scarlet  copings, 
in  the  vague  hope  of  seeing  some  figure  he  knew;  but  now 
sick  at  heart,  and  fearing  that  Mackenzie  might  make  him 
out  with  a  glass,  he  sat  down  in  the  state-room,  alone  and 
silent  and  miserable. 

He  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  oars,  and  got  up  and  list- 
ened. Mosenberg  came  down  and  said,  "Mr.  Mackenzie 
has  sent  a  tall,  thin  man — do  you  know  him  ? — to  see  who  we 
are,  and  whether  we  will  go  up  to  his  house." 

"What  did  Eyre  say?" 

**  I  don't  know.     I  suppose  he  is  going." 

Then  Johnny  himself  came  below.  He  was  a  sensitive 
young  fellow,  and  at  this  moment  he  was  very  confused,  ex- 
cited and  nervous.  "  Lavender,"  he  said,  stammering  some-* 
what,  "  I  am  going  up  now  to  Mackenzie's  house.  You 
know  whom  I  shall  see;  shall  I  take  any  message — if  I  see  a 
chance — if  your  name  is  mentioned — a  hint,  you  know — " 

'"Tell  her,"  Lavender  said,  with  a  sudden  pallor  of  de- 
termination in  his  face;  but  he  stopped,  and  said  abruptly, 
"Never  mind,  Johnny;  don't  say  anything  about  me." 

*'Not  to-night,  anyway,"  Johnny  said  to  himself  as  he 
drew  on  his  best  jacket,  with  its  shining  brass  buttons,  and 
went  up  the  companion  to  see  if  the  small  boat  was  ready. 

Johnny  had  had  a  good  deal  of  knocking  about  the  West- 
ern Highlands,  and  was  familiar  with  the  frank  and 
ready  hospitality  which  the  local  lairds — more  particularly 
in  the  remote  islands;  where  a  stranger  brought  recent  news- 
papers and  a  breath  of  the  outer  world  with  him — granted  to 
all  comers  who  bore  with  them  the  credentials  of  owning 
a  yacht.  But  never  before  had  he  gone  up  to  a  strange 
house  with  such  perturbation  of  spirit.  He  had  been  so 
anxious,  too,  that  he  had  left  no  time  for  preparation.  When 
he  started  up  the  hill  he  could  see,  in  the  gathering  dusk, 
that  the  tall  keeper  had  just  entered  the  house,  and  Avhen  he 
arrived  there  he  found  absolutely  nobody  about  the  place. 

In  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  simply  have  walked  in 
and  called  some  one  from  the  kitchen.  But  he  now  felt 
himself  somewhat  of  a  spy,  and  was  not  a  little  afraid  of 
meeting  the  handsome  Mrs.  Lavender,  of  whom  he  had  heard 


428  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

SO  much.  There  was  no  lignt  in  the  passage,  but  there  was  a 
bright  red  gloom  in  one  of  the  windows,  and  almost  inad- 
vertently he  glanced  in  there.  What  was  this  strange  picture 
he  saw  ?  The  red  flame  of  the  fire  showed  him  the  grand 
figures  on  the  walls  of  Sheila's  dining-room,  and  lit  up  the 
white  table-cover  and  the  crystal  in  the  middle  of  the  apart- 
ment.  A  beautiful  young  girl,  clad  in  a  tight  blue  dress, 
had  just  arisen  from  beside  the  fire  to  light  two  candles  tha.; 
were  on  the  table  ;  and  then  she  went  back  to  her  seat  and' 
took  up  her  sewing,  but  not  to  sew,  for  Johnny  saw  hergentl}' 
kneel  down  beside  a  little  bassinet  that  was  a  mass  of  won- 
derful pink  and  white,  and  he  supposed  the  door  in  the  pas- 
sage was  open,  for  he  could  hear  a  low  voice  humming 
some  lullaby-song  sung  by  the  young  mother  to  her  child. 
He  went  back  a  step  bewildered  by  what  he  had  seen.  Could 
he  fly  down  to  the  shore,  and  bring  Lavender  up  to  look  at 
this  picture  through  the  window,  and  beg  of  him  to  go  in 
and  throw  himself  on  her  forgiveness  and  mercy?  He 
had  not  time  to  think  twice.  At  this  moment  Mairi  appeared 
in  the  dusky  passage,  looking  a  little  scared,  although  she  did 
not  drop  the  plates  she  carried  :  "  Oh,  sir,  and  are  you  the 
gentleman  that  has  come  in  the  yacht?  And  Mr.  Mackenzie, 
he  is  up  stairs  just  now,  but  he  will  be  down  ferry  soon;  and 
will  you  come  in  and  speak  to  Miss  Sheila?" 

"Miss  SheilaP''  he  repeated  to  himself  with  amazement; 
and  the  next  moment  he  found  himself  before  this  beautiful 
young  girl,  apologizing  to  her,  stammering,  and  wishing  that 
he  had  never  undertaken  such  a  task,  while  he  knew  that  all 
the  time  she  was  calmly  regarding  him  with  her  large,  calm 
and  gentle  eyes,  and  that  there  was  no  trace  of  embarrass- 
ment in  her  manner. 

"  Will  you  take  a  seat  by  the  fire  until  papa  comes  down  ?" 
she  said.  "  We  are  very  glad  to  have  any  one  come  to  see 
us;  we  do  not  have  many  visitors  in  the  winter." 

"But  I  am  afraid,"  he  stammered,  "  I  am  putting  you  to 
trouble ;"  and  he  glanced  at  the  swinging  pink  and  white 
couch?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Sheila  said  with  a  smile;  **  I  was  just  about  to 
send  my  little  boy  to  bed." 

She  lifted  the  sleeping  child  and  rolled  it  in  some  enor- 
mous covering  of  white  and  silken-haired  fur,  and  gave  the 
small  bundle  to  Mairi  to  carry  to  Scarlett. 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  429 

"Stop  a  bit!"  Johnny  called  out  to  Mairi;  and  the  girl 
started  and  looked  around,  whereupon  he  said  to  Sheila,  with 
much  blushing,  "  Isn't  there  a  superstition  about  an  infant 
waking  to  find  silver  in  its  hands?  I  am  suie  you  wouldn't 
mind  my — " 

"  He  cannot  hold  anything  yet,"  Sheila  said,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Then,  Mairi,  you  must  put  this  below  his  pillow.  Is  not 
that  the  same  thing  for  luck?"  he  said,  addressing  the  young 
Highland  girl  as  if  he  had  known  her  all  his  life;  and  Mairi 
went  away  proud  and  pleased  to  have  this  precious  bundle 
to  carry,  and  talking  to  it  with  a  thousand  soft  and  endear- 
ing phrases  in  her  native  tongue. 

Mackenzie  came  in  and  found  the  two  talking  together. 
"How  do  you  do,  sir?"  he  said,  with  a  grave  courtesy.' 
'*  You  are  ferry  welcome  to  the  island,  and  if  there  is  any- 
thing you  want  for  the  boat  you  will  hef  it  from  us.  She  is 
a  little  thing  to  hef  come  so  far." 

"  She's  not  very  big,"  Johnny  said,  "but  she's  a  thorough 
good  sailer;  and  then  we  watch  our  time,  you  know.  But 
I  don't  think  we  shall  go  farther  North  than  Lewis." 

"  Hef  you  no  friends  on  board  with  you?"  Mackenzie 
asked. 

•'Oh,  yes,"  Johnny  answered,  "two.  But  we  did  not  wish 
to  invade  your  house  in  a  body.     To-morrow — " 

"To-morrow!"  said  Mackenzie,  impatiently;  "no,  but 
to-night  !  Duncan,  come  here  !  Duncan,  go  down  to  the 
boat  that  has  just  come  in  and  tell  the  gentlemen — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  Johnny  cried,  "but  my  two 
friends  are  regularly  done  up — tired;  they  were  just  going  to 
turn  in  when  I  left  the  yacht.  To-morrow,  now,  you  will  see 
them." 

"  Oh,  ferry  well,  ferry  well,"  said  Mackenzie,  who  had 
hoped  to  have  a  big  dinner  party  for  Sheila's  amusement.  "In 
any  way,  you  will  stop  and  hef  some  dinner  ?  It  is  just  ready 
— oh,  yes — and  it  is  not  a  ferry  fine  dinner,  but  it  will  be  dif- 
ferent from  your  cabin  for  you  to  sit  ashore.'' 

"  Well,  if  you  will  excuse  me — "  Johnny  was  about  to  say, 
for  he  was  so  full  of  the  news  he  had  to  tell  that  he  would 
have  sacrificed  twenty  dinners  to  get  off  at  this  moment. 
But  Mr.  Mackenzie  would  take  no  denial.  An  additional 
cover  was  laid,  for  the  stranger,  and  Johnny  sat  down  to  stare 


43° 


PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 


at  Sheila  in  a  furtive  way,  and  to  talk  to  her  father  about 
everything  that  was  happening  in  the  great  world. 

"  And  what  now  is  this,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  a  lofty  and 
careless  air — "  what  is  this  1  see  in  the  papers  about  pictures 
painted  by  a  gentleman  called  Lavender?  I  hef  a  great  in- 
terest in  these  exhibitions.  Perhaps  you  hef  seen  the 
pictures  ?" 

Johnny  blushed  very  red,  but  he  hid  his  face  over  his  plate, 
and  presently  he  answered,  without  daring  to  look  at  Sheila: 
' '  I  should  think  I  have  seen  them  !  Why,  if  you  care  for 
coast  landscapes,  I  can  tell  you  you  never  saw  such  thorough 
good  work  in  all  your  life  !  Why,  everybody's  talking  of 
them.  You  never  heard  of  a  man  making  such  a  name  for 
himself  in  so  short  a  time." 

He  ventured  to  look  up.  There  was  a  strange,  proud  light 
in  the  girl's  face,  and  the  effect  of  it  on  this  bearer  of  good 
tidings  was  to  make  him  launch  into  such  praises  of  these 
pictures  as  considerably  astonished  old  Mackenzie.  As  for 
Sheila,  she  was  proud  and  happy,  but  not  surprised.  She 
had  known  it  all  along.  She  had  waited  for  it  patiently, 
and  it  had  come  at  last,  although  she  was  not  to  share  in  his 
triumph. 

"  I  know  some  people  who  know  him,"  said  Johnny,  who 
had  taken  two  or  three  glasses  of  Mackenzie's  sherry,  and 
felt  bold;  "  and  what  a  shame  it  is  he  should  go  away  from 
all  his  friends,  and  almost  cease  to  have  any  communication 
with  them  !  And  then,  of  all  the  places  in  the  world  to 
spend  the  Winter  in,  Jura  is  about  the — " 

"Jura!"  said  Sheila,  quickly,  and  he  fancied  that  her 
face  paled  somewhat. 

"1  believe  so,''  he  said;  "somewhere  on  the  Western 
coast,  you  know,  over  the  Sound  of  Islay." 

Sheila  was  obviously  very  much  agitated,  but  her  father 
said,  in  a  careless  way,  "Oh,  yes,  Jura  is  not  a  ferry  good 
place  in  the  Winter.  And  the  West  side,  you  said  ?  Ay, 
there  are  not  many  houses  on  the  West  side;  it  is  not  a  ferry 
good  place  to  live  in.      But  it  will  be  ferry  cheap,  whatever." 

"  I  don't  think  that  is  the  reason  of  his  living  there,"  said 
Johnny,  with  a  laugh. 

"  But,"  Mackenzie  urged,  rather  anxiously,  "  you  wass  not 
saying  he  would  get  much  for  these  pictures  ?  Oh,  no,  who 
will  give  much  money  for  pictures  of  rocks  and  sea-weed  ? 
Oh,  no!" 


A     PKINCtSS    Ol--     THULE.  43I 

"  Oh,  won't  they,  though?"  Johnny  cried.  **  They  give  a 
deal  more  for  that  sort  of  picture  now  than  for  the  old-fash- 
ioned cottage-scenes,  with  a  young  lady  dressed  in  a  drugget 
petticoat  and  a  pink  jacket,  sitting  peeling  potatoes.  Don't 
you  make  any  mistake  about  that.  The  public  are  beginning 
to  learn  what  real  good  work  is,  and,  by  Jove!  don't  they 
pay  for  it,  too  ?  Lavender  got  eight  hundred  pounds  for  the 
smaller  of  the  two  pictures  I  told  you  about." 

Johnny  Eyre  was  beginning  to  forget  that  the  knowledge 
he  was  showing  of  Frank  Lavender's  affairs  was  suspiciously 
minute. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  Mackenzie  said,  with  a  frown.  "  It  is  all 
nonsense  the  stories  that  you  hear.  1  hef  had  great  experi- 
ence of  these  exhibitions.  I  hef  been  to  London  several 
times,  and  every  time  1  wass  in  the  exhibitions." 

"  But  I  should  know  something  of  it,  too,  for  I  am  an  art- 
ist myself." 

"  And  do  you  get  eight  hundred  pounds  for  a  small  pic- 
ture ?"  Mackenzie  asked  severely. 

"Well,  no,"  said  Johnny,  with  a  laugh.  "  But  then  I  am 
a  duffer." 

After  dinner  Sheila  left  the  room:  Johnny  fancied  he  knew 
where  she  was  going.  He  pulled  in  a  chair  to  the  fire,  lit  his 
pipe,  and  said  he  would  have  but  one  glass  of  toddy,  which 
Mackenzie  proceeded  to  make  for  him.  And  then  he  said  to 
the  old  King  of  Borva,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  will 
you  allow  me  to  suggest  that  that  young  girl  who  was  in  here 
before  dinner  should  not  call  your  daughter  Miss  Sheila  be- 
fore strangers  !" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  foolish,"  said  Mackenzie,  "  but  it  is  an  old 
habit,  and  they  will  not  stop  it.  And  Duncan,  he  is  worse 
than  any  one." 

"  Duncan,  I  suppose,  is  the  tall  fellow  who  waited  at 
dinner  ?" 

**0h,  ay,  that  is  Duncan." 

Johnny's  ingenious  bit  of  stratagem  had  failed.  He  wanted 
to  have  old  Mackenzie  call  his  daughter  Mrs.  Lavender,  so 
that  he  might  have  had  occasion  to  open  the  question  and 
plead  for  his  friend.  But  the  old  man  resolutely  ignored  the 
relationship  between  Lavender  and  his  daughter  so  far  as  this 
stranger  was  concerned,  and  so  Johnny  had  to  go  away  partly 
disappointed. 


432  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

But  another  opportunity  might  occur,  and  in  the  mean- 
time was  not  he  carrying  rare  news  down  to  the  Phoebe  ? 
He  had  lingered  too  long  in  the  house,  but  now  he  made 
up  for  lost  time,  and  once  or  twice  nearly  missed  his  footing 
in  running  down  the  steep  path.  He  had  to  find  the  small 
boat  for  himself,  and  go  out  on  the  slippery  stones  and  sea- 
weed to  get  into  her.  Then  he  pulled  away  from  the  shore, 
his  oars  striking  white  fire  into  the  dark  water,  the  water 
gurgling  at  the  bow.  Then  he  got  into  the  shadow  of  the 
black  hull  of  the  yacht,  and  Pate  was  there  to  lower  the  little 
gangway. 

When  Johnny  stepped  on  deck,  he  paused,  in  considerable 
doubt  as  to  what  he  should  do.  He  wished  to  have  a  word 
with  Lavender  alone;  how  could  he  go  down  with  such  a  mes- 
sage as  he  had  to  deliver  to  a  couple  of  fellows  probably 
smoking  and  playing  chess? 

**  Pate,"  he  said,  "tell  Mr.  Lavender  I  want  him  to  come 
on  deck  for  a  minute." 

"  He's  by  himsel',  sir,"  Pate  said.  "  He's  been  sitting  by 
himsel'  for  the  last  hour.  The  young  gentleman's  lain 
doon." 

Johnny  went  down  into  the  little  cabin.  Lavender,  who 
had  neither  book  nor  cigar,  nor  any  other  sign  of  occupa- 
tion near  him,  seemed  in  his  painful  anxiety  almost  incapable 
of  asking  the  question  that  rose  to  his  lips. 

'' Have  you  seen  her,  Johnny?'  he  said,  at  length,  with 
his  face  looking  strangely  careworn. 

Johnny  was  an  impressionable  young  fellow.  There  were 
tears  running  freely  down  his  cheeks  as  he  said,  "  Yes,  I 
have.  Lavender,  and  she  was  rocking  a  child  in  a  cradle.*' 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

»  REDINTEGRATIO    AMORIS. 

That  same  night  Sheila  dreamed  a  strange  dream,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  an  angel  of  God  came  to  her  and  stood 
before  her,  and  looked  at  her  with  his  snining  face  and  his 
sad  eyes.  And  he  said,  "  Are  you  a  woman,  and  yet  slow  to 
forgive?  Are  you  a  mother,  and  have  you  no  love  for  the 
father  of  your  child  ?"  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  not 
answer.    She  fell  on  her  knees  before  him,  and  covered  her 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  433 

face  with  her  hands  and  wept.  And  when  she  raised  her 
eyes  again  the  angel  was  gone,  and  in  his  place  Ingram  was 
there,  stretching  out  his  hand  to  her  and  bidding  her  rise  and 
be  comforted.  Yet  he,  too,  spoke  in  the  same  reproachful 
tones,  and  said,  "  What  would  become  of  us  all,  Sheila,  if 
none  of  our  actions  were  to  be  condoned  by  time  and  repen- 
tance? What  would  become  of  us  if  we  could  not  say,  at 
some  particular  point  of  our  lives,  to  the  by-gone  time,  that 
we  had  left  it,  wiih  all  its  errors  and  blunders  and  follies,  be- 
hind us,  and  would,  with  the  help  of  God,  start  clear  on  a 
new  sort  of  life  ?  What  would  it  be  if  there  were  no  forget- 
fulness  for  any  of  us — no  kindly  vail  to  come  down  and  shut 
out  the  memory  of  what  we  have  done — if  the  staring  record 
were  to  be  kept  forever  before  our  eyes  ?  And  you  are  a 
woman,  Sheiia;  it  should  be  easy  for  you  to  forgive  and  to 
encourage,  and  to  hope  for  better  things  of  the  man  you 
love?  Has  he  not  suffered  enough?  Have  you  no  word  for 
him?" 

The  sound  of  her  sobbing  in  the  night-time  brought 'her 
father  to  the  door.  He  tapped  at  the  door,  and  said,  "What 
is  the  matter,  Sheila?" 

She  awoke  with  a  slight  cry,  and  he  went  into  the  room 
and  found  her  in  a  strangely  troubled  state,  her  hands  out- 
stretched to  him,  her  eyes  wet  and  wild.  "  Papa,  I  have 
been  very  cruel.  I  am  not  fit  to  live  any  more.  There  is 
no  woman  in  the  world  would  have  done  what  I  have  done." 

"Sheila,"'  he  said,  "  you hef  been  dreaming  again  about  all 
that  folly  and  nonsense.  Lie  down,  like  a  good  lass.  You 
will  wake  the  boy  if  you  do  not  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep ; 
and  to-morrow  we  will  pay  a  visit  to  the  yacht  that  hass 
come  in,  and  you  will  ask  the  gentlemen  to  look  at  the 
Maighdean-mhara." 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "to-morrow  I  want  you  to  take  me  to 
Jura." 

"  To  Jura,  Sheila  ?  You  cannot  go  to  Jura.  You  cannot 
leave  the  baby  with  Mairi,  Sheila.'' 

"  I  will  take  him  with  me,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  possible  at  all,  Sheila.  But  I  will  go  to  Jura 
— oh  yes,  I  will  go  to  Jura.  Indeed,  I  was  thinking  last 
night  that  I  would  go  to  Jura." 

"  Oh  no,  you  must  not  go,"  she  cried.  ' '  You  would  speak 
harshly — and  he  is  very  proud — and  we  should  never  see  each 


434  ^     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

Other  again.  Papa,  I  know  you  will  do  this  for  me — you  will 
let  me  go." 

"It  is  foolish  of  you,  Sheila,"  her  father  said,  "to  think 
that  I  do  not  know  how  to  arrange  such  a  thing  without 
making  a  quarrel  of  it.  But  you  will  see  all  about  it  in  the 
morning.  Just  now  you  will  lie  down,  like  a  good  lass,  and 
go  to  sleep.  So  good-night,  Sheila,  and  do  not  think  of  it 
any  more  till  the  morning." 

She  thought  of  it  all  through  the  night,  however.  She 
thought  of  her  sailing  away  down  through  the  cold  wintry 
seas  to  search  that  lonely  coast.  Would  the  gray  dawn 
break  with  snow,  or  would  the  kindly  heavens  lend  her  some 
fair  sunlight  as  she  set  forth  on  her  lonely  quest?  And  all 
the  night  through  she  accused  herself  of  being  hard  of  heart, 
and  blamed  herself,  indeed,  for  all  th^t  had  happened  in  the 
by-gone  time.  Just  as  the  day  was  coming  in  she  fell  asleep, 
and  she  dreamed  that  she  went  to  the  angel  whom  she  had 
seen  before,  and  knelt  down  at  his  feet  and  repeated  in 
some  vague  way  the  promises  she  had  made  on  her  marriage 
morning.  With  her  head  bent  down  she  said  that  she  would 
live  and  die  a  true  wife  if  only  another  chance  were  given 
her.  The  angel  answered  nothing,  but  he  smiled  with  his 
sad  eyes  and  put  his  hand  for  a  moment  on  her  head,  and 
then  disappeared,  When  she  awoke  Mairi  was  in  the  room 
silently  stealing  away  the  child,  and  the  white  daylight  was 
clear  in  the  windows. 

She  dressed  with  trembling  hands,  and  yet  there  was  a  faint 
suffused  sense  of  joy  in  her  heart.  She  wondered  if  her  father 
would  keep  to  his  promise  of  the  night  before,  or  whether  it 
had  been  made  to  get  her  to  rest.  In  any  case  she  knew  that 
he  could  not  refuse  her  much;  and  had  not  he  himself  said 
that  he  had  intended  going  away  down  to  Jura  ? 

''Sheila,  you  are  not  looking  well  this  morning,"  her  father 
said;  "it  is  foolish  for  you  to  lie  awake  and  think  of  such 
things.  And  as  for  what  you  were  saying  about  Jura,  how 
can  you  go  to  Jura?  We  hef  no  boat  big  enough  for  that. 
I  could  go — oh  yes,  /  could  go — but  the  boat  I  would  get  at 
Stornoway  you  would  not  get  in  at  all.  Sheila;  and  as  for 
the  baby — " 

"But,  then,  papa,"  she  said,  "did  not  the  gentleman  who 
was  here  last  night  say  that  they  were  going  back  by  Jura  ? 
And  it  is  a  big  yacht,  and  he  has  only  two  friends  on  board. 
He  mi^ht  take  us  down.'' 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  435 

"You  cannot  ask  a  stranger,  Sheila.  Besides,  the  boat  is 
too  small  a  one  for  this  time  of  the  year.  I  should  not  like 
to  see  you  go  in  her,  Sheila." 

*'  I  have  no  fear,"  the  girl  said. 

*'  No  fear  !"  her  father  said  impatiently.  **  No,  of  course 
you  hef  no  fear,  that  is  the  mischief.  You  will  take  no  care 
of  yourself  whatever." 

"When  is  the  young  gentleman  coming  up, this  morning?'' 

"Oh,  he  will  not  come  up  again  till  I  go  down.  Will  you 
go  down  to  the  boat,  Sheila,  and  go  on  board  of  her  ?" 

Sheila  assented,  and  some  half  hour  thereafter  she  stood  at 
the  door,  clad  in  her  tight-fitting  blue  serge,  with  the  hat  and 
sea-gull's  wing  over  her  splendid  masses  of  hair.  It  wa;  an 
angry-looking  morning  enough;  ra^s  of  gray  clf^uds  were 
being  hurried  past  the  shoulders  of  Suainabhal;  a  heavy  surf 
was  beating  on  the  shore. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  rain.  Sheila."  her  father  said,  smell- 
ing the  moisture  in  the  keen  air.  "  Will  you  hef  your  water- 
proof?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  if  I  am  to  meet  strangers,  I  cannot 
wear  a  waterproof." 

The  sharp  wind  had  brought  back  the  color  to  her  cheeks, 
and  there  was  some  gladness  in  her  eyes.  She  knew  she 
might  have  a  fight  for  it  before  she  could  persuade  her  father 
to  set  sail  in  this  strange  boat;  but  she  never  doubted  for  a 
moment,  recollecting  the  gentle  face  and  modest  manner  of 
the  youthful  owner,  that  he  would  be  really  glad  to  do  her  a 
service,  and  she  knew  that  her  father's  opposition  would  give 
way. 

"  Shall  we  take  Bras,  papa?" 

"  No,  no,"  her  father  said  "  we  will  hef  to  go  in  a  small 
boat.  I  hope  you  will  not  get  wet,  Sheila;  there  is  a  good 
breeze  on  the  water  this  morning." 

"i  think  they  are  much  safer  in  here  than  going  around 
the  islands  just  at  present,"  Sheila  said. 

"  Ay,  you  are  right  there,  Sheila,"  her  father  said,  looking 
at  the  direction  of  the  wind.  "  They  got  in  in  a  ferry  good 
time.  And  they  may  hef  to  stay  for  a  while  before  they  can 
face  the  sea  again,'* 

"And  we  shall  become  very  great  friends  with  them,  papa, 
and  they  will  be  glad  to  take  us  to  Jura,"  she  said  with  a 
smile,  for  she  knew  there  was  not  much  of  the  hospitality  of 
Bor\'apost  bestowed  with  ulterior  motives. 


436  A     PRINCESS     OF    THULE. 

They  went  down  the  steep  path  to  the  ba)^  where  the 
Phoebe  was  lurching  and  heaving  in  the  rough  swell,  her 
bowsprit  sometimes  nearly  catching  the  crest  of  a  wave.  No 
one  was  on  deck.     How  were  they  to  get  on  board?" 

"They  can't  hear  you  in  this  wind,"  Sheila  said.  "We 
will  have  to  haul  down  our  own  boat." 

And  that,  indeed,  they  had  to  do,  though  the  work  of  get- 
ting the  little  thing  down  the  beach  was  not  very  arduous  for 
a  man  of  Mackenzie's  build. 

"I  am  going  to  pull  you  out  to  the  yacht,  papa,"  Sheila 
said. 

"Indeed  you  will  do  no  such  thing,"  her  lather  said,  indig- 
nantly. "Asif  youwass  a  fisherman's  lass,  and  the  gentle- 
men never  wass  seeing  you  before  !  Sit  down  in  the  stern. 
Sheila,  and  hold  on  ferry  tight,  for  it  is  a  rough  water  for 
this  little  boat. ' 

They  had  almost  got  out,  indeed,  to  the  yacht  before  any 
one  was  aware  of  their  approach,  but  Pate  appeared  in  time 
to  seize  the  rope  that  Mackenzie  ilung  him,  and  with  a  little 
scrambling,  they  were  at  last  safely  on  board.  The  noise  of 
their  arrival,  however,  startled  Johnny  Eyre,  who  was  lying 
on  his  back  smoking  a  pipe  atter  breakfast.  He  jumped  up 
and  said  to  Mosenberg,  who  was  his  only  companiot,  "Hal- 
loa !  here's  this  old  gentleman  come  on  board.  Ft  knows 
you.     What's  to  be  done?" 

"Done?"  said  the  boy,  with  a  moment's  hesita\.ion;  and 
then  a  flush  of  decision  sprang  into  his  face.  "  AA  him  to 
come  down.  Yes,  I  will  speak  to  him,  and  te',1  him  that 
Lavender  is  on  the  island.  Perhaps  he  meant  to  go  into  the 
house;  who  knows?     If  he  did  not,  let  us  make  him." 

"Ail  right?"  said  Johnny;  "let's  go  a  buster." 

Then  he  called  up  the  companion  to  Pate  to  send  the  gen- 
tleman below,  while  he  flung  a  few  things  aside  to  make  the 
place  more  presentable.  Johnny  had  been  engaged  a  few 
minutes  before  in  sewing  a  button  on  a  woolen  shirt,  and 
that  article  of  attire  does  not  look  well  beside  a  breakfast- 
table. 

His  visitors  began  to  descend  the  narrow  wooden  steps,  and 
presently  Mackenzie  was  heard  to  say,  "  Tek  great  care. 
Sheila;  the  brass  is  ferry  slippery." 

"  Oh,  thunder!"  Johnny  said,  looking  at  Mosenberg. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Eyre,"  said  the  old  King  of  Borva, 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  437 

stooping  to  get  into  the  cabin;  "it  is  a  rough  day  you  are 
getting.  Sheila,  mind  your  head  till  you  have  passed  the 
door." 

Mackenzie  came  forward  to  shake  hands,  and,  in  doing  so, 
caught  sight  of  Mosenberg.  The  whole  truth  flashed  upon 
him  in  a  moment,  and  he  instantaneously  turned  to  Sheila, 
and  said,  quickly,  "  Sheila,  go  up  on  deck  for  a  moment." 

But  she,  too,  had  seen  the  lad,  and  she  came  forward,  with 
a  pale  face,  but  with  a  perfectly  self-possessed  manner,  ar.l 
said,  "  How  do  you  do?  It  is  a  surprise  your  coming  to 
the  island,  but  you  often  used  to  talk  of  it." 

"Yes,"  he  stammered,  as  he  shook  hands  with  her  and  her 
father,  "  I  often  wished  to  come  here.  What  a  wild  place  it 
is  !  And  have  you  lived  here,  Mrs.  Lavender,  all  the  time 
since  you  left  London  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

Mackenzie  was  getting  very  uneasy.  Every  moment  he 
expected  Lavender  would  enter  this  confined  little  cabin; 
and  was  this  the  place  for  these  two  to  meet,  before  a  lot  of 
acquaintances  ? 

"Sheila,"  he  said,  "  it  is  too  close  for  you  here,  and  I  am 
going  to  have  a  pipe  with  the  gentlemen.  Now  if  you  wass 
a  good  lass  you  would  go  ashore  again,  and  go  up  to  the 
house,  and  say  to  Mairi  that  we  will  all  come  for  luncheon  at 
one  o'clock,  and  she  must  get  some  fish  up  from 
Borvapost.  Mr.  Eyre,  he  will  send  a  man  ashore  with 
you  in  his  own  boat,  that  is  bigger  than  mine,  and  you  will 
show  him  the  creek  to  put  into.  Now  go  away,  like  a 
good  lass,  and  we  will  be  up  ferry  soon — oh,  yes,  we  will  be 
up  directly  at  the  house." 

"  I  am  sure,"  Sheila  said  to  Johnny  Eyre,  "  we  can  make 
you  more  comfortable  up  at  the  house  than  you  are  here, 
although  it  is  a  nice  little  cabin."  And  then  she  turned  co 
Mosenberg  and  said,  "  And  we  have  a  great  many  things  to 
talk  about." 

"  Could  she  suspect  ?"  Johnny  asked  himself,  as  hcescorted 
her  to  the  boat  and  pulled  her  in  himself  to  the  shore.  Her 
face  was  pale,  and  her  manner  a  trifle  formal,  otherwise  she 
showed  no  sign.  He  watched  her  go  along  the  stones  ti4 
she  reaches  the  path,  then  he  pulled  out  to  the  Phoebe  again 
and  went  down  below  to  entertain  his  host  of  the  previous 
evening. 


438  A     PRINCESS    QF     THULE. 

Sheila  walked  slowly  up  the  rude  little  path,  taking  little 
heed  of  the  blustering  wind  and  the  hurrying  clouds.  Her 
eyes  were  bent  down,  her  face  was  pale.  When  she  got  to 
the  top  of  the  hill,  she  looked,  in  a  blank  sort  of  way,  all 
around  the  bleak  moorland,  but  probably  she  did  not  expect 
to  see  any  one  there.  Then  she  walked,  with  rather  an  un- 
certain step,  into  the  house.  She  looked  into  the  room,  the 
door  of  which  stood  open.  Her  husband  sat  there,  with  his 
arms  outstretched  on  the  table  and  his  head  buried  in  his 
hands.  He  did  not  hear  her  approach,  her  footfall  was  so 
light,  and  it  was  with  the  same  silent  step  she  went  into  the 
room  and  knelt  down  beside  him  and  put  her  hands  and 
face  on  his  knee,  and  said  simply,  "  I  beg  for  your  forgive- 
ness." 

He  started  up  and  looked  at  her  as  though  she  were  some 
spirit,  and  his  own  face  was  haggard  and  strange.  "  Sheila,'' 
he  said  in  a  low  voice,  laying  his  hand  gently  on  her  head, 
"  It  is  I  who  ought  to  be  there,  and  you  know  it.  But  I  can- 
not meet  your  eyes.  I  am  not  going  to  ask  for  your  forgive- 
ness just  yet;  I  have  no  right  to  expect  it.  All  I  want  is  this; 
if  you  will  let  me  come  and  see  you  just  as  before  we  were 
married,  and  if  you  will  give  me  a  ciiance  of  winning  your 
consent  over  again,  we  can  at  least  be  friends  until  then.  But 
why  do  you  cry,  Sheila?  You  have  nothing  to  reproach 
yourself  with," 

She  rose  and  regarded  him  for  a  moment  with  her  stream- 
ing eyes,  and  then,  moved  by  the  passionate  entreaty  of  her 
face,  and  forgetting  altogether  the  separation  and  time  of 
trial  he  had  proposed,  he  caught  her  to  his  bosom  and  kissed 
her  forehead,  and  talked  soothingly  and  caressingly  to  her  as 
if  she  were  a  child. 

"  I  cry,"  she  said,  "  because  I  am  happy — because  I  believe 
all  that  time  is  over — because  I  think  you  will  be  kind  to  me. 
And  I  will  be  a  good  wife  to  you,  and  you  will  forgive  me 
all  that  I  have  done." 

"  You.are  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  my  head,  Sheila,"  ha 
said, humbly.  *'  You  know  I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  As  for 
you,  I  tell  you  I  have  no  right  to  expect  your  forgiveness  yet. 
But  I  think  you  will  find  out  by-and-by  that  aiy  repentance 
is  not  a  mere  momentary  thing.  I  have  had  a  'ong  time  to 
think  over  what  ha^  happened,  and  what  I  lost  when  I  lost 
you,  Sheila." 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  439 

"  But  you  have  found  me  again,"  the  girl  said,  pale  a  little, 
and  glad  to  sit  down  on  the  nighest  couch,  while  she  held 
his  hand  and  drew  him  toward  her.  "  And  now  I  must  ask 
you  for  one  thing." 

He  was  sitting  beside  her;  he  feared  no  longer  to  meet  the 
look  of  those  earnest,  meek,  affectionate  eyes. 

"  This  is  it,''  she  said.  "  If  we  are  to  be  together — not 
what  we  were,  but  something  quite  different  from  that — will 
you  promise  me  never  to  say  one  word  about  what  is  pact — 
to  shut  it  out  altogether — to  forget  it  !" 

'•T  cannot,  Sheila,"  he  said.  "Ami  to  have  no  chance 
of  telling  you  how  well  I  know  how  cruel  I  was  to  you — how 
sorry  I  am  for  it  ?" 

"No,"  she  said,  firmly.  "  If  you  have  some  things  to  re- 
gret, so  have  I;  and  what  is  the  use  of  competing  with  each 
other  as  to  which  has  the  most  forgiveness  to  ask  for  ?  Frank, 
dear,  you  will  do  this  for  me?  You  will  promise  never  to 
speak  one  word  about  that  time  ?' 

How  earnest  the  beautiful,  sad  face  was  !  He  could  not 
withstand  the  entreaty  of  the  piteous  eyes.  He  said  tn  her, 
abashed  by  the  great  love  that  she  showed,  and  hopelcs.-  of 
making  other  reparation  than  obedience  to  her  generous 
wish,  "  Let  it  be  so,  Sheila.  I  will  never  speak  a  word  about 
it.  You  will  see  otherwise  than  in  words  whether  I  forget 
what  is  passed,  and  your  goodness  in  letting  it  go.  But, 
Sheila,"  he  added,  with  downcast  face,  "  Johnny  Eyre  was 
here  last  night.  He  told  me — "  He  had  to  say  no  more. 
She  took  his  hand  and  led  him  gently  and  silently  out  of  the 
room. 

Meanwhile  the  old  King  of  Borva  had  been  spending  a 
somewhat  aaxious  time  down  in  the  cabin  of  the  Phoebe. 
Many  and  many  a  day  had  he  been  planning  a  method  by 
which  he  might  secure  a  meeting  between  Sheila  and  her 
husband,  and  now  it  had  all  come  about  without  his  aid,  and 
in  a  manner  which  rendered  him  unable  to  take  any  precau- 
tions. He  did  not  know  but  that  some  awkward  accident 
might  destroy  all  the  chances  of  the  affair.  He  knew  that 
Lavender  was  on  the  island.  He  had  frankly  asked  young 
Mosenberg  as  soon  as  Sheila  had  left  the  yacht. 

"Oh,  yes,'' the  lad  said,  "he  went  away  into  the  island 
early  this  morning.  I  begged  of  him  to  go  to  your  house; 
he  did  not  answer.     But  I  am  sure  he  will,     I  know  he  will." 


440  A    PiJINCESS   OF    THUEE. 

"  My  Kott!"  Mackenzie  said,  "  and  he  has  been  wandering 
about  the  island  all  the  morning,  and  he  will  be  very  faint  and 
hungry,  and  a  man  is  neffer  in  a  good  temper  then  for  making 
up  a  quarrel.  If  I  had  known  the  last  night,  I  could  hef  had 
dinner  with  you  all  here,  and  we  should  hef  given  him  a  good 
glass  of  whisky,  and  then  it  wass  a  good  time  to  tek  him  up 
to  the  house." 

"  Oh,  you  may  depend  on  it,  Mr.  Mackenzie,"  Johnny 
Eyre  said,  "  that  Lavender  needs  no  stimulus  of  that  sort  to 
make  him  desire  a  reconciliation.  No,  I  should  think  not. 
He  has  done  nothing  but  brood  over  this  affair  since  ever  he 
left  London ;  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you  scarcely 
knew  him,  he  is  so  altered.  You  would  fancy  he  had  lived 
ten  years  in  the  time." 

"Ay,  ay,"  Mackenzie  said,  not  listening  very  attentively, 
and  evidently  thinking  more  of  what  might  be  happening 
elsewhere;  "but  I  v/as  thinking,  gentlemen,  it  wass  time  for 
us  to  go  ashore  and  go  up  to  the  house,  and  hef  something  to 
eat." 

"  I  thought  you  said  one  o'clock  for  luncheon,  sir,"  young 
Mosenberg  said. 

"  One  o'clock!  "  Mackenzie  repeated,  impatiently.  "  Who 
the  leffle  can  wait  till  one  o'clock,  if  you  hef  been  walking 
about  an  island  since  the  daylight,  with  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink." 

Mr.  Mackenzie  forgot  that  it  was  not  Lavender  he  had 
asked  to  lunch. 

•'  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  Sheila  hass  had  plenty  of  time  to 
send  down  to  Borvapost  for  some  fish;  and  by  the  time  you 
get  up  to  the  house  you  will  see  that  it  is  ready." 

"Very  well,"  Johnny  said,  "we  can  go  up  to  the  house, 
anyway." 

He  went  up  the  companion,  and  he  had  scarcely  got 
his  head  above  the  level  of  the  bulwarks  when  he  called 
back,  "  I  say  Mr.  Mackenzie,  here  is  Lavender  on  the  shore, 
and  your  daughter  is  with  him.  Do  they  want  to  come  on 
board,  do  you  think  ?     Or  do  they  want  us  to   go   ashore?" 

Mackenzie  uttered  a  few  phrases  in  Gaelic,  and  got  up  on 
deck  instantly.  There,  sure  enough,  was  Sheila,  with  her 
hand  on  her  husband's  arm,  both  looking  toward  the  yacht. 
The  wind  was  blowing  too  strong  for  them  to  call.  Mac- 
kenzie wanted  himself  to  pull  in  for  them,  but  this  was  over- 
ruled, and  Pate  was  despatched. 


A  PRINCESS   OF  THULE.  44 1 

An  awkward  pause  ensued.  The  three  standing  on  deck 
■were  sorely  perplexed  as  to  the  forthcoming  interview,  and 
as  to  what  they  should  do.  Were  they  to  rejoice  over  a  re- 
conciliation, or  ignore  the  fact  altogether  and  simply  treat 
Sheila  as  Mrs.  Lavender?  Her  father,  indeed,  fearing  that 
Sheila  would  be  strangely  excited,  and  would  probably  burst 
into  tears,  wondered  what  he  could  get  to  scold  her  about. 

Fortunately,  an  incident  partly  ludicrous  broke  the  awk- 
wardness of  their  arrival.  The  getting  on  deck  was  a  matter 
of  some  little  difficulty ;  in  the  scuffle  Sheila's  small  hat,  with 
its  snow-white  feather,  got  unloosed  somehow,  and  the  next 
minute  it  was  whirled  away  by  the  wind  into  the  sea.  Pate 
could  not  be  sent  after  it  just  at  the  moment,  and  it  was 
rapidly  drifting  away  to  leeward,  when  Johnny  Eyre,  with  a 
laugh  and  a  "  Here  goes!"  plunged  in  after  the  white  feather 
that  was  dipping  and  rising  in  the  waves  like  a  sea-gull. 
Sheila  uttered  a  slight  cry,  and  caught  her  husband's  arm. 
But  there  was  not  much  danger.  Johnny  was  an  expert 
swimmer,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  seen  to  be  making 
his  way  backward  with  one  arm,  while  in  the  other  hand  he 
held  Sheila's  hat.  Then  Pate  had  by  this  time  got  the  small 
boat  around  to  leeward,  and  very  shortly  after  Johnny,  drip- 
ping like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  came  on  deck  and  presented 
the  hat  to  Sheila,  amidst  a  vast  deal  of  laughter. 

"lam  so  sorry,"  she  said;  "but  you  must  change  your 
clothes  quickly.     I  hope  you  will  have  no  harm  from  it." 

'•' Not  I,"  he  said;  "but  my  beautiful  white  decks  have 
got  rather  into  a  mess.  I  am  glad  you  saw  them  while  they 
were  dry,  Mrs.  Lavender.  Now  I  am  going  below  to  make 
myself  a  swell,  for  we're  all  going  to  have  luncheon  on  shore, 
ain't  we?" 

Johnny  went  below  very  well  pleased  with  himself.  He 
had  called  her  Mrs.  Lavender  without  wincing.  He  had 
got  over  all  the  awkwardness  of  a  second  introduction 
by  the  happy  notion  of  plunging  after  the  hat.  He  had  to 
confess,  however,  that  the  temperature  of  the  sea  was  not 
just  what  he  would  have  preferred  for  a  morning  bath. 

By  and  by  he  made  his  appearance  in  his  best  suit  of  blue 
and  brass  buttons,  and  asked  Mrs.  Lavender  if  she  would 
now  come  down  and  see  the  cabin. 

"  I  think  you  want  a  good  glass  of  whisky,"  old  Mackenzie 
said,  as  they  all  went  below;  "  the  water  it  is  ferry  cold  just 
now." 


442  A     PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  Yes,"  Johnny  said,  blushing,  "we  shall  all  celebrate  the 
capture  of  the  hat." 

It  was  the  capture  of  the  h^^t.  then,  that  was  to  be  cele- 
brated by  this  friendly  ceremony.  Perhaps  it  was,  but  there 
was  no  mirth  now  on  Sheila's  face. 

"  And  you  will  drink  first,  Sheila,"  her  father  said,  almost 
solemnly,  "and  you  will  drink  to  your  husband's  health." 

Sheila  took  the  glass  of  raw  whisky  in  her  hand,  and 
looked  around  timidly.  '•  I  cannot  drink  this,  papa,"  she 
said.     "  If  you  will  let  me — " 

"You  will  drink  that  glass  to  your  husband's  health,  Sheila," 
old  Mackenzie  said,  with  unusual  severity. 

"  She  sliall  do  nothing  of  the  sort  if  she  doesn't  like  it?" 
Johnny  Eyre  cried,  suddenly,  not  caring  whether  it  was  the 
wrath  of  old  Mackenzie  or  of  the  devil  that  he  was  braving ;  and 
forthwith  he  took  the  glass  out  of  Sheila's  hand  and  threw 
the  whisky  on  the  floor,  Then  he  pulled  out  a  champagne 
bottle  from  a  basket  and  said,  "This  is  what  Mrs.  Lavender 
will  drink." 

Mackenzie  looked  staggered  for  a  moment;  he  had  never 
been  so  braved  before.  But  he  was  not  in  a  quarrelsome 
mood  on  such  an  occasion ;  so  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh 
and  cried,  "Well,  did  ever  any  man  see  the  like  o'  that? 
Good  whisky — ferry  good  whisky — and  flung  on  the  floor 
as  if  it  was  water,  and  as  if  there  wass  no  one  in  the  boat  that 
would  hef  drunk  it!  But  no  matter,  Mr.  Eyre,  no  matter; 
the  lass  will  drink  whatever  you  give  her,  for  she's  a  good 
lass;  and  if  we  have  all  to  drink  champagne,  that  is  no  mat- 
ter, too,  but  there  is  a  man  or  two  up  on  deck  that  would  not 
like  to  know  the  whisky  was  spoiled." 

*' Oh,"  Johnny  said.  "  there  is  still  a  drop  left  for  them. 
And  this  is  what  you  must  drink,  Mrs.  Lavender." 

Lavender  had  sat  down  in  a  corner  of  the  cabin,  his  eyes 
averted.  When  he  heard  Sheila's  name  mentioned  he  looked 
up,  and  she  came  forward  to  him.  She  said  in  her  simple 
way,  "  I  drink  this  to  you,  my  dear  husband;"  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  old  King  of  Borva  came  forward  and  held 
out  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Yes,  and  by  Kott,  I  drink  to  your 
health,  too,  with  ferry  good  will  !" 

Lavender  started  to  his  feet.  "  Wait  a  bi%  Mr,  Macken- 
zie. 1  have  got  something  to  say  to  you  before  you  ought 
to  shake  my  hand." 


A    PRINCESS    OK    THULE.  443 

But  Sheila  interposed  quickly.  She  put  her  hand  on  his 
arm  and  looked  into  his  lace.  "  You  will  keep  your  promise 
to  me,"  she  said;  and  that  was  an  end  of  the  matter.  Ihe 
two  men  shook  hands;  there  was  nothing  said  between  them, 
then  or  again,  of  what  was  over  and  gone. 

They  had  a  pleasant  enough  luncheon  together,  up  in  that 
quaint  room  with  the  Tyrolese  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  Dun- 
can for  once  respected  old  Mackenzie's  threats  as  to  what 
would  happen  if  he  called  Sheila  anything  but  Mrs,  Lavender 
before  these  strangers.  For  some  time  Lavender  sat  almost 
silent,  and  answered  Sheila,  who  continuously  talked  to  him, 
in  little  else  than  monosyllables.  But  he  looked  at  her  a  great 
deal,  sometimes  in  a  wistful  sort  of  way,  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  recall  the  various  fancies  her  face  used  to  produce  in  his 
imagination. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?''  she  said  to  him  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"Because  I  have  made  a  new  friend,"  he  said. 
But  when  Mackenzie  began  to  talk  of  the  wonders  of  the 
island  and  the  seas  around  it  and  to  beg  the  young  yachts- 
men to  prolong  their  stay,  Lavender  joined  with  a  will  in  that 
conversation,  and  added  his  entreaties. 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  stay?"  Johnny  Eyre  said, looking 
up. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  as  if  the  alternative  of  going 
back  with  them  had  not  presented  itself  to  him,  "  For  one 
thing,  I  have  got  to  look  out  for  a  place  where  I  can  build  a 
house.  That  is  what  I  mean  to  do  with  my  savings  just  at 
present;  and  if  yau  would  come  with  me,  Johnny,  and  have 
a  prowl  around  the  island  to  find  out  some  pretty  little  bay 
with  a  good  anchorage  in  it — for  you  know  I  am  going  to 
steal  that  Maighdean-mhara  from  Mr.  Mackenzie — then  we 
can  begin  and  make  ourselves  architects,  and  plan  out  the 
place  that  is  to  be.     And  then  some  day — " 

Mackenzie  had  been  sitting  in  mute  astonishment,  but  he 
suddenly  broke  in  upon  his  son-in-law.  "  On  this  island  ? 
No,  by  Kott,  you  will  not  do  that!  On  this  island?  And 
with  all  the  people  at  Stornoway  ?  Hoots,  no!  that  will 
neffer  do.  Sheila  she  has  no  one  to  speak  to  on  this  island, 
as  a  young  lass  should  hef ;  and  you,  what  would  you  do 
yourself  in  the  bad  weather  ?  But  there  is  Stornoway.  Oh, 
yes,  that  is  a  fine  big  place,  and  many  people  you  will  get  to 


444  A     PRINCESS     OF     THULE. 

know  there,  and  you  will  hef  the  newspapers  and  the  letters 
at  once:  and  there  will  be  always  boats  there  that  you  can  go 
to  Oban,  to  Greenock,  to  Glasgow — anywhere  in  the  world — 
whenever  you  hef  a  mind^to  do  that;  and  then  when  you  go 
to  London,  as  you  will  hef  to  go  many  times,  there  will  be 
plenty  there  to  look  after  your  house  when  it  is  shut  up,  and 
keep  the  rain  out,  and  the  paint  and  the  paper  good,  more 
as  could  be  done  on  this  island.  On  this  island! — how  would 
you  live  on  this  island?" 

The  old  King  of  Borva  spoke  quite  impatiently  and  con- 
temptuously of  the  place.  You  would  have  thought  his  life 
on  this  island  was  a  species  of  penal  servitude,  and  that  he 
dwelt  in  his  solitary  house  only  to  think  with  a  vain  longing 
of  the  glories  and  delights  of  Stornoway.  Lavender  knew 
well  what  prompted  these  scornful  comments  on  Borva. 
The  old  man  was  afraid  that  the  island  would  really  be  too 
dull  for  Sheila  and  her  husband,  and  that,  whereas  the  easy 
compromise  of  Stornoway  might  be  practicable,  to  set  up 
house  in  Borva  might  lead  them  to  abandon  the  North  alto- 
gether. 

"  From  what  I  have  heard  of  it  from  Mr.  Lavender," 
Johnny  said  with  a  laugh,  "  I  don't  think  this  island  such  a 
dreadful  place;  and  I'm  hanged  if  I  have  found  it  so,  so  far." 

"  But  you  will  know  nothing  about  it — nothing  whatever," 
said  Mackenzie  petulantly.  "You  do  not  know  the  bad 
weather,  when  you  cannot  go  down  the  loch  to  Callernish, 
and  you  might  have  to  go  to  London  just  then." 

"Well,  I  suppose  London  could  wait,"  Johnny  said. 

Mackenzie  began  to  get  angry  with  this  young  man. 
"You  hef  not  been  to  Stornoway,"  he  said,  severely. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  Johnny  replied  with  much  coolness, 
**and  I  don't  hanker  after  it.  I  get  plenty  of  town  life  in 
London;  and  when  I  come  up  to  the  sea  and  the  islands, 
I'd  rather  pitch  my  tent  with  you,  sir,  than  live  in  Stornoway." 

"  Oh,  but  you  don't  know,  Johnny,  how  fine  a  place  Stor- 
noway is,"  Lavender  said,  hastily,  for  he  saw  the  old  man 
was  beginning  to  get  vexed.  "  Stornoway  is  a  beautiful  little 
town,  and  it  is  on  the  sea,  too." 

**  And  it  hass  fine  houses,  and  ferry  many  people,  and 
ferry  good  society  whatever,"  Mackenzie  added  with  some 
touch  of  indignation. 

"But  you  see,   this   is   how   it   stands,  Mr.    Mackenzie," 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  445 

.Lavender  put  in  humbly.  "  We  should  have  to  go  to  Lon- 
don from  lime  to  time,  and  we  should  then  get  quite  enough 
of  city  life,  and  you  might  find  an  occasional  trip  with  us 
not  a  bad  thing.  But  up  here  I  should  have  to  look  on 
my  house  as  a  sort  of  workshop.  Now,  with  all  respect  to 
Stornoway,  you  must  admit  that  the  coast  about  here  is  a 
little  more  picturesque.  Besides,  there's  another  thing. 
It  would  be  rather  more  difficult  at  Stornoway  to  take  a 
rod  or  a  gun  out  bf  a  morning.  Then  there  would  be 
callers,  bothering  you  at  your  work.  Then  Sheila  would 
have  f;.r  less  liberty  in  going  about  by  herself.'' 

"  Eighthly  and  tenthly,  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  have 
a  house  here,"  cried  Johnny  Eyre,  with  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Sheila  says  she  would  like  to  have  a  billiard-room,"  her 
husband  continued.  "  Where  could  you  get  that  in  Storno- 
way ?' 

"And  you  must  have  a  large  room  for  a  piano,  to  sing  in 
and  play  in,"  the  young  Jew  boy  said,  looking  at  Sheila. 

"1  should  think  a  one-storied  house,  with  a  large  veran- 
dah, would  be  the  best  sort  of  thing,"  Lavender  said,  "  both 
for  the  sun  and  the  rain;  and  then  one  could  have  one's  easel 
outside,  you  know.  Suppose  we  all  go  for  a  walk  around  the 
shore  by-and-by.  There  is  too  much  of  a  breeze  to  take  the 
Phoebe  down  the  loch." 

So  the  King  of  Borva  was  quietly  overruled,  and  his  domin- 
ions invaded  in  spite  of  himself.  Sheila  could  not  go  out 
with  the  gentlemen  just  then  ;  she  was  to  follow  in  about  an 
hour's  time.  Meanwhile  they  buttoned  their  coats,  pulled 
down  their  caps  tight,  and  set  out  to  face  the  grey  skies  and 
the  Winiry  wind.  Just  as  they  were  passing  away  from  the 
house,  Mackenzie,  who  was  walking  in  front  with  Lavender, 
said  in  a  cautious  sort  of  way,  "You  will  want  a  deal  of 
money  to  build  this  house  you  wass  speaking  about,  for  it 
will  hef  to  be  all  stone  and  iron,  and  very  strong  whatever, 
or  else  it  will  be  a  plague  to  you  from  the  one  year  to  the  next 
with  the  rain  getting  in," 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Lavender  said,  "it  will  have  to  be  done  well 
once  for  all  ;  and  what  with  rooms  big  enough  to  paint  in 
and  play  billiards  in,  and  also  a  bedroom  or  two  for  friends 
who  may  come  to  stay  with  us,  it  will  be  an  expensive  busi- 
ness. But  I  have  been  very  lucky,  Mr,  Mackenze.  It  isn't 
the   money   I    have,    but   the   commissions    I   am   ofiTered, 


44^  A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

that  warrant  my  going  in  for  this  house.  I'll  tell  you  about 
all  these  things  afterward.  In  the  meantime  I  shall  have 
twenty-four  hundred  pounds,  or  thereabouts,  in  a  couple  of 
months." 

"But  you  hef  more  than  that  now,"  Mackenzie  said, 
gravely.  "This  is  what  I  wass  going  to  tell  you.  The 
money  that  your  aunt  left,  that  is  yours,  every  penny  of  it — 
oh,  yes,  every  penny  and  every  farthing  of  it  is  yours,  sure 
enough.  For  it  wass  Mr.  Ingram  hass  told  me  all  about  it; 
and  the  old  lady,  she  wanted  him  to  take  care  of  the  money 
for  Sheila;  but  what  wass  the  good  of  the  money  to  Sheila? 
My  lass,  she  will  hef  plenty  of  money  of  her  own;  and  I 
wanted  her  to  hef  nothing  to  do  with  what  Mr.  Ingram 
said;  but  it  wass  all  no  use,  and  there  iss  the  money  now  for 
you  and  for  Sheila,  every  penny  and  every  farthing  of  it." 

Mackenzie  ended  by  talking  in  an  injured  way,  as  if  this 
business  had  seriously  increased  his  troubles. 

"But  you  know,"  Lavender  said,  with  amazement — "you 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  this  money  was  detinitely  left  to 
Ingram,  and — you  may  believe  me  or  not — I  was  precious 
glad  of  it  when  I  heard  it.  Of  course  it  would  have  been  of 
more  use  to  him  if  he  had  not  been  about  to  marry  this 
American  lady." 

"  Oh,  you  hef  heard  that,  then?"  Mackenzie  said. 

"  Mosenberg  brought  me  the  news.  But  are  you  quite 
sure  about  this  affair?  Don't  you  think  this  is  merely  a  trick 
of  Ingram's  to  enable  him  to  give  the  money  to  Sheila? 
That  would  be  very  like  him.     I  know  him  of  old." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  help  it  if  a  man  will  tell  lies,"  said  Mac- 
kenzie. "  But  that  is  what  he  says  is  true.  And  he  will  not 
touch  the  money — indeed,  he  will  hef  plenty,  as  you  say. 
But  there  it  is  for  Sheila  and  you,  and  you  will  be  able  to 
build  whatever  house  you  like.  And  if  you  was  thinking  of 
having  a  bigger  boat  than  the  Maighdean-mhara — "  the  old 
man  suggested. 

Lavender  jumped  at  that  notion  directly.  "What  if  we 
could  get  a  yacht  big  enough  to  cruise  anywhere  in  the 
Summer  months  ?"  he  said.  "  We  might  bring  a  party  of  peo- 
ple all  the  way  from  the  Thames  to  Loch  Roag,  and  cast 
anchor  opposite  Sheila's  house.  Fancy  Ingram  and  his  wife 
coming  up  like  that  in  the  Autumn;  and  I  know  you  could 
go  over  to  Sir  James,  and  get  us  some  shooting." 


A    PRINCESS   OF    THULE.  447 

Mackenzie  laughed  grimly:  "We  will  see — we  will  see 
about  that.  I  think  there  will  be  no  great  difficulty  about 
getting  a  deer  or  two  for  you,  and  as  for  the  salmon,  there 
mil  be  one  or  two  left  in  the  White  Water.  Oh  yes,  we  will 
have  a  little  shooting  and  a  little  fishing  for  any  of  your 
friends.  And  as  for  the  boat,  it  will  be  ferry  difficult  to  get 
a  good  big  boat  for  such  a  purpose  without  you  was  planning 
and  building  one  yourself;  and  that  will  be  better,  I  think, 
for  the  yachts  nowadays  they  are  all  built  for  the  racing, 
and  you  will  have  a  beat  fifty  tons,  sixty  tons,  seventy  tons, 
that  hass  no  room  in  her  below,  but  is  nothing  but  a  big  heap 
of  canvas  and  spars,  But  if  you  was  wanting  a  good,  steady 
boat,  with  good  cabins  below  for  the  leddies,  and  a  good 
saloon  that  you  could  have  your  dinner  in  all  at  once,  then 
you  will  maybe  come  down  with  me  to  a  shipbuilder  I  know 
in  Glasgow — oh,  he  is  a  ferry  good  man— and  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done.  There  is  a  gentleman  now  in  Dunoon — 
and  they  say  he  is  a  ferry  great  artist,  too — and  he  hass  a 
schooner  of  sixty  tons  that  I  hef  been  in  myself,  and  it  wass 
just  like  a  steamer  below  for  the  comfort  of  it.  And  when 
th;.  boat  is  ready  I  will  get  you  ferry  good  sailors  for  her, 
t  aat  will  know  every  bit  of  the  coast  from  Loch  Indaal  to 
:ne  Butt  of  Lewis,  and  I  will  see  that  they  are  ferry  cheap 
for  you,  for  I  hef  plenty  of  work  for  them  in  the  Winter.  But 
I  was  no  saying  yet,"  the  old  man  added,  "that  you  were 
right  about  coming  to  live  in  Borva.  Stornoway  is  a  good 
place  to  live  in ;  and  it  is  a  fine  harbor  for  repairs,  if  the  boat 
was  wanting  repairs." 

"If  she  were,  couldn't  we  send  her  around  to  Stornoway?" 
"  But  the  people  in  Stornoway — it  iss  the  people  in  Storno- 
way," said  Mackenzie,  who  was  not  going  to  give  in  without 
a  grumble. 

Well,  they  did  not  fix  on  a  site  for  the  house  that  afternoon. 
Sheila  did  not  make  her  appearance.  Lavender  kept  con- 
tinually turning  and  looking  over  the  long  undulations  of 
rock  and  moorland;  and  at  length  he  said,  "Look  here, 
Johnny,  would  you  mind  going  on  by  yourselves  ?  I  think  I 
shall  walk  back  to  the  house." 

"  What  is  keeping  that  foolish  girl?"  her  father  said,  im- 
patiently. "It  is  something  about  the  dinner  now,  as  if  any 
one  was  particular  about  a  dinner  in  an  island  like  this,  where 
you  can  expect  nothing.  But  at  Stornoway — oh,  yes,  they  hef 
many  things  there." 


44^  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  come  and  dine  with  us  on  board  the 
Phoebe  to-night,  sir,"  Johnny  said,  "  It  will  be  rather  a  lark, 
mind  you;  we  make  up  a  tight  fit  in  that  cabin.  I  wonder 
if  Mrs  Lavender  would  venture;  do  you  think  she  would, 
sir?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  this  evening,  anyway," said  her  father;  "for 
I  know  she  will  expect  you  all  to  be  up  at  the  house  this  even- 
ing; and  what  would  be  the  use  of  tumbling  about  in  the 
bay  when  you  can  be  in  a  house  ?  But  it  is  very  kind  of  you. 
Oh,  yes,  to-morrow  night,  then,  we  will  go  down  to  the  boat, 
but  this  night  I  know  Sheila  will  be  ferry  sorry  if  you  do  not 
come  to  the  house." 

"  Well,  let's  go  back  now,"  Johnny  said,  "  and  if  we've 
time  we  might  go  down  for  our  guns  and  have  a  try  along 
the  shore  for  an  hour  or  so  before  the  daylight  goes.  Fancy 
that  chance  at  those  wild  duck!" 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  nothing,"  Mackenzie  said.  "To-morrow 
you  will  come  with  me  up  to  the  loch,  and  there  you  will  hef 
some  shooting;  and  in  many  other  places  I  will  show  you 
you  will  hef  plenty  of  shooting." 

They  had  just  got  back  to  the  house  when  they  found  Sheila 
coming  out.  She  had,  as  her  father  supposed,  been  detained 
by  her  preparations  for  entertaining  their  guests;  but  now 
she  was  free  until  dinner-time,  and  so  the  whole  party  went 
down  to  the  shore  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Phoebe  and  let  Mac- 
kenzie have  a  look  at  the  guns  on  board.  Then  they  went 
up  to  the  house,  and  found  the  tall  and  grim  keeper  with  the 
baby  in  his  arms,  while  Scarlett  and  Mairi  were  putting  the 
finishing  touches  on  the  gleaming  white  table  and  its  show  of 
steel  and  crystal. 

How  strange  it  was  to  Sheila  to  sit  at  dinner  there,  and 
listen  to  her  husband  talkin,^  of  boating  and  fishing  and  what 
not  as  he  used  to  sit  and  talk  in  the  olden  time  to  her  father, 
on  the  Summer  evenings,  on  the  high  rocks  over  Borvapost! 
The  interval  between  that  time  and  this  seemed  to  go  clean 
out  of  her  mind.  And  yet  there  must  have  been  some  inter- 
val, for  he  was  looking  older  and  sterner  and  much 
rougher  about  the  face  now,  after  being  buffeted  about  by 
wind  and  rain  and  sun  during  that  long  and  solitary  stay  in 
Jura.  But  it  was  very  like  the  old  times  when  they  went  into 
the  little  drawing-room,  and  when  Mairi  brought  in  the  hot 
water  and  the  whisky,  tibe  tobacco  and  the  long  pipes,  when 
the  old  K'mq  of  Borva  sat  himself  down  in  h's  f've'^t  chair  hv 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  449 

the  table,  and  when  Lavender  came  to  Sheila  and  asked  her 
if  he  should  get  out  her  music  and  open  the  piano  for  her. 

"Madam,''  young  Mosenberg  said  to  her,  "it  is  a  long 
time  since  I  heard  one  of  your  strange  Gaelic  songs." 

''Perhaps  you  never  heard  this  one,"  Sheila  said,  and  she 
began  to  sing  the  plaintive  "Farewell  to  Glenshalloch." 
Many  a  time,  indeed,  of  late  had  she  sung  its  simple  and  pa- 
thetic air  as  a  sort  of  lullaby,  perhaps  because  it  was  gentle, 
monotonous  and  melancholy,  perhaps  because  there  were  lines 
here  and  there  that  she  liked.     Many  a  time  had  she  sung — 

Sleep  sound,  my  sweet  babe,  there  is  naught  to  alarm  thee, 
The  sons  of  the  valley  no  power  have  to  harm  thee, 
I'll  sing  thee  to  rest  in  the  balloch  untrodden, 
With  a  coronach  sad  for  the  slain  of  CuUoden. 

But  long  before  she  had  reached  the  end  of  it  her  father's 
patience  gave  way,  and  he  said,  "  Sheila,  we  willhef  no  more 
of  those  teffles  of  songs!  We  will  hef  a  good  song;  and 
there  is  more  than  one  of  the  gentlemen  can  sing  a  good 
song,  and  we  do  not  wish  to  be  always  crying  over  the  sor- 
rows of  other  people.  Now  be  a  good  lass.  Sheila,  and  sing 
us  a  good  cheerful  song." 

And  Sheila,  with  great  good  nature,  suddenly  struck  a 
different  key,  and  sang  with  a  spirit  that  delighted  the  old 
man. 

The  standard  on  the  braes  o'  Mar 

Is  up  and  streaming  rarely; 
The  gathering  pipe  on  Lochnagar 

Is  sounding  langand  clearly; 
The  Highlandmen  from  hill  and  glen, 
In  martial  hue,  with  bonnets  blue, 
Wi'  belted  plaids  and  burnished  blades, 

Are  coming  late  and  early. 

"  Now,  that  is  a  better  kind  of  song — that  is  a  teffle  of  a 
good  song,"  Mackenzie  cried,  keeping  time  to  the  music  with 
his  right  foot,  as  if  he  were  a  piper  playing  in  front  of  his 
regiment.  "  Wass  there  anything  like  that  in  your  country, 
Mr.  Mosenberg?'' 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  the  lad  meekly,  "  but  if  you  like, 
I  will  sing  you  one  of  our  soldiers'  songs.  They  have  plenty 
of  fire  in  them,  I  think." 

Certainly,  Mackenzie  had  plenty  of  brilliant  and  cheerful 
and  stirring  music  that  evening,  but  that  which  pleased  him 
most,  doubtless,  was  to  see,  as  all  the  world  could  see,  the 
happiness  of  his  good  lass.  Sheila,  proud  and  glad,  with  a 
light  on  her  face  that  had  not  been  there  for  many  a  day, 
wanted  to  do  everything  at  once  to  please  and   amuse  her 


45° 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE, 


guests,  and  most  of  all  to  wait  upon  her  husband ;  and  Lav- 
ender was  so  abashed  by  her  sweet  service  and  her  simple 
ways  that  he  could  show  his  gratitude  only  by  some  furtive 
and  kindlf  touch  of  the  hand  as  Sheila  passed. 

It  seemed  to  him  she  had  never  looked  so  beautiful,  and 
never,  indeed  since  they  left  Stornoway  together  had  he 
heard  her  quiet,  low  laugh  so  full  of  enjoyment.  What  had 
he  done,  he  asked  himself,  to  deserve  her  confidence, 
for  it  was  the  hope  in  her  proud  and  gentle  eyes  that  gave 
that  radiant  brightness  to  her  face.  He  did  not  know.  He 
could  not  answer.  Perhaps  the  foregiveness  she  had  so 
freely  and  frankly  tendered,  and  the  confidence  she  now 
so  clearly  showed  in  him,  sprang  from  no  judgment  or  argu- 
ment, but  were  only  the  natural  fruit  of  an  abounding 
and  generous  love.  More  than  once  that  night  he  wished 
that  Sheila  could  read  the  next  half-dozen  years  as  though 
in  some  prophetic  scroll,  that  he  might  show  her  how  he 
would  endeavor  to  prove  himself,  if  not  unworthy — for  he 
could  scarcely  hope  that — at  least  conscious  of  her  great 
and  unselfish  affection,  and  as  grateful  for  it  as  a  man  could  be. 

They  pushed  their  enjoyment  to  such  a  late  hour  of  the 
night  that  when  they  discovered  what  time  it  was,  Mac- 
kenzie would  not  allow  one  of  them  to  venture  out  into  the 
dark  to  find  the  path  down  to  the  yacht,  and  Duncan  and 
Scarlett  were  forthwith  called  on  to  provide  the  belated 
guests  with  some  more  or  less  haphazard  sleeping  accommo- 
dation. 

"Mr.  Mackenzie,"  said  Johnny,  "I  don't  mind  a  bit  if  I 
sleep  on  the  floor.  I've  just  had  the  j oiliest  night  I  ever 
spent  in  my  life.  Mosenberg,  you'll  have  to  take  the  Phcebe 
back  to  Greenock  by  yourself;  I  shall  never  leave  Borva  any 
more." 

"You  will  be  sober  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Eyre,"  young 
Mosenberg  said ;  but  the  remark  was  unjust,  for  Johnny's  en- 
thusiasm had  not  been  produced  by  the  old  king's  whisky, 
potent  as  that  was. 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE   PRINCESS   SHEILA. 

"I  SHOULD  like,"  said  Mrs.  Edward  Ingram,  sitting  down 
and  contentedly  folding  her  hands  in  her  lap — "  I  should  so 
much  like,  Edward,  to  have  my  own  way  for  once,  it  would 
be  so  novel  and  so  nice." 


A     PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  451 

Her  husband  was  busy  with  a  whole  lot  of  plans  all  stretched 
out  before  him,  and  with  a  pipe  which  he  had  some  difficulty 
in  keeping  alight.  He  did  not  even  turn  around  as  he  an- 
swered. ''You  have  your  own  way  always.  But  you  can't 
expect  to  have  mine  also,  you  know." 

"Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  slowly,  "anything  your 
friend  Sheila  told  you  about  your  rudeness  to  people?  I 
wish,  Edward,  you  would  leave  those  ragged  children  and 
their  school-houses  for  three  minutes.  Do  I  I  so  much  want 
to  see  some  places  when  we  go  to  Scotland,  for  who  knows 
when  we  may  be  there  again?  I  have  set  my  heart  on  the 
Braes  of  Yarrow.  And  Loch  Awe  by  moonlight.  And  the 
Pass  of  Glencoe — " 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  at  last,  turning  around  in  his 
chair,  "  how  can  we  go  to  those  places  ?  Sheila  says  Oban 
on  the  fifteenth." 

"  But  what  Sheila  says  isn't  an  Act  of  Parliament,"  said 
the  young  American  lady,  plaintively  and  patiently.  "  Why 
should  you  regulate  all  your  movements  by  her  ?  You  are 
always  looking  to  the  North:  you  are  like  the  spires  of  the 
churches  that  are  said  to  be  always  telling  us  that  Heaven  is 
close  by  the  Pole  Star." 

"  The  information  is  inaccurate,  my  dear,"  Ingram  said, 
looking  at  his  pipe,  "  for  the  spires  of  the  churches  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world  point  the  other  way.  However,  that 
does  not  matter.  How  do  you  propose  to  go  rampaging  all 
over  Scotland,  and  still  be  at  Oban  on  the  fifteenth  ?" 

"  Telegraph  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lavender  to  come  on  to 
Edinburgh,  and  leave  the  trip  to  Lewis  until  we  have 
seen  those  places.  For,  once  we  have  got  to  that  wild 
island,  who  knows  when  we  shall  return  ?  Now,  do,  like  a 
good  boy.  You  know  this  new  house  of  theirs  will  be  all  the 
drier  in  a  month's  time.  And  their  yacht  will  be  all  the 
more  ship-shape.  And  both  Sheila  and  her  husband  will  be 
the  better  for  coming  down  among  civilized  folks  for  a  week's 
time — especially  just  now,  when  numbers  of  their  friends 
must  be  in  the  Highlands;  and,  of  course,  you  get  better  at- 
tention at  the  hotels  when  the  season  is  going  on,  and  they 
have  every  preparation  made ;  and  I  am  told  the  heather  and 
fern  on  the  hills  look  very  fine  in  August  ;  and  I  am  sure 
Mr.  and.  Mrs.  Lavender  will  enjoy  it  very  much  if  we  get  a 
carriage  somewhere  and  leave  the  railways  altogether,  and 
drive  by  ourselves  all  through  the  prettiest  districts.'' 


452  A      PRINCESS    OF     THULE. 

She  wished  to  see  the  effect  of  her  eloquence  on  him.  It 
was  peculiar.  He  put  his  pipe  down  and  gravely  repeated 
these  lines,  with  which  she  was  abundantly  familiar: 

"  Sez  vather  to  I, '  Jack,  rin  arter  him,  du !  * 
Sez  I  to  vather, '  I'm  darned  if  I  du  ! '" 

"  You  won't  ?  "  she  said. 

"The  proposal  comes  too  late.  How  can  you  expect 
Sheila  to  leave  her  new  house,  and  that  boy  of  hers,  that  oc- 
cupies three-fourths  of  her  letters,  just  at  this  time.  I  think 
it  was  very  kind  of  her,  mind  you,  to  come  away  down  to 
Oban  to  meet  us;  and  Lavender,  too,  is  giving  up  the  time 
out  of  the  best  working  season  of  the  year.  Bless  you!  you 
will  see  far  more  beautiful  things  as  we  go  from  Oban  to 
Lewis  than  any  you  have  mentioned.  For  we  shall  probably 
cut  down  by  Scarba  and  Jura  before  going  up  to  Skye;  and 
then  you  will  see  the  coast  that  you  admired  so  much  in  Lav- 
ender's pictures." 

"  Is  the  yacht  a  large  one,  Edward?"  his  wife  asked,  some- 
what timidly. 

"  Oh,  big  enough  to  take  our  party  a  dozen  times  over." 

"  Will  she  tumble  about  much,  do  you  think?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  Ingram  said,withan  unkindly  grin.  "But 
as  you  are  a  weak  vessel,  Lavender  will  watch  the  weather 
for  you,  and  give  it  you  as  smooth  as  possible.  Besides,  look 
at  the  cleanliness  and  comfort  of  a  smart  yacht!  You  are 
thinking  of  one  of  those  Channel  steamers,  with  their  engines 
and  oil," 

"  Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  said  his  wife,  with  a  sigh. 

They  not  only  hoped  for  it,  but  got  it.  When  they  left 
the  Crinan  and  got  on  board  the  big  steamer  that  was  to 
take  them  up  to  Oban,  all  around  them  lay  a  sea  of  soft  and 
shining  blue,  scarcely  marred  by  a  ripple.  Here  and  there 
sharp  crags  that  rose  out  of  the  luminous  plain  seemed  al- 
most black,  but  the  farther  islands  lay  soft  and  hazy  in  the 
heat,  with  the  beautiful  colors  of  August  tinting  the  great 
masses  of  rock.  As  they  steantfed  northward  through  the 
shining  sea,  new  islands  and  new  channels  appeared  imtil 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  open  Atlantic,  and  that,  too,  was 
as  calm  and  as  still  as  a  summer  night.  There  was  no  white 
cloud  in  the  blue  vault  of  the  sky,  there  was  no  crisp  curl 
of  a  wave  on  the  blue  plain  of  the  sea,  but  everywhere   a 


A    PRINCESS    Of  THULE,  453 

clear,  radiant,  salt-smelling  atmosphere,  the  drowsy  haze  of 
which  was  only  visible  when  you  looked  at  the  distant  islands 
and  saw  the  fine  and  pearly  vail  of  heat  that  was  drawn  over 
the  soft  colors  of  the  hills.  The  sea-birds  dipped  and  dis- 
appeared as  the  big  boat  churned  its  way  onward.  A  white 
solan,  far  away  by  the  shores  of  Mull,  struck  the  water  as  he 
dived,  and  sent  a  jet  of  spray  into  the  air.  Colonsay  and 
Oronsay  became  as  faint  clouds  on  the  Southern  horizon,  the 
jagged  coast  of  Lome  drew  near.  And  then  they  went  up 
through  the  Sound  of  Kerrara  and  steamed  into  the 
broad  and  beautiful  bay  of  Oban,  and  behold!  here 
was  Sheila  on  the  pier,  already  waving  a  handkerchief 
to  them,  while  her  husband  held  her  arm,  lest  in  her  excite- 
ment she  should  go  too  near  the  edge  of  the  quay. 

"And  where  is  the  boat  that  we  have  heard  so  much  of?" 
said  Mrs.  Kavanagh,  when  all  the  kissing  and  handshaking 
was  over. 

"  There  !"  said  Sheila,  not  without  some  shamefaced  pride, 
pointing  to  a  shapely  schooner  that  lay  out  in  the  bay,  with 
her  white  decks  and  tall  spars  shining  in  the  afternoon  sun. 

"And  what  do  you  call  her?"  asked  Mrs.  Kavanagh's 
daughter. 

"We  call  her  Princess  Sheila,'''*  said  Lavender.  "What 
do  you  think  of  the  name  ?" 

"  You  couldn't  have  got  a  better,"  Ingram  said,  senten- 
tiously,  and  interposing  as  if  it  was  not  within  his  wife's 
province  to  form  an  opinion  of  any  sort.  "  And  where  is 
your  father.  Sheila  ?     In  Borva  ?" 

•'  Oh,  no,  he  is  here,"  the  girl  said,  with  a  smile.  "  But 
the  truth  is,  he  has  driven  away  to  see  some  gentlemen  he 
knows,  to  ask  if  he  can  have  some  grouse  for  you.  He 
should  have  been  back  by  this  time." 

"I  would  not  hurry  him,  Sheila,"  Ingram  said,  gravely. 
"  He  could  not  have  gone  on  a  more  admirable  errand.  We 
must  await  his  return  with  composure.  In  the  meantime, 
Lavender,  do  make  your  fellows  stop  that  man;  he  is 
talcing  away  my  wife's  trunk  to  some  hotel  or  other." 

The  business  of  getting  the  luggage  on  board  the  yacht 
was  entrusted  to  a  couple  of  men  whom  Lavender  left  on 
shore,  whereupon  the  newly-arrived  travelers  put  off  in  a  lit- 
tle pinnace  and  were  conveyed  to  the  side  of  the  handsome 
schooner.  When  they  were  on  board  an  eager  exploration 
followed;  and  if  Sheila  could  only  have  undertaken  to  vouch 


454  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

for  the  smoothness  of  the  water  for  the  next  month,  Mrs. 
Ingram  was  ready  to  declare  that  at  last  she  had  discovered 
the  most  charming  and  beautiful  and  picturesque  fashion  of 
living  known  to  civilized  man.  She  was  delighted  with  the 
■  little  elegancies  of  the  state-rooms;  she  was  delighted  with 
the  paintings  on  the  under  skylights,  which  had  been  done 
by  Lavender's  own  hand ;  she  was  delighted  with  the  white- 
ness of  the  decks  and  the  height  of  the  tapering  spars;  and 
she  had  no  words  for  her  admiration  of  the  beautiful  sweep 
of  the  bay,  the  striking  ruins  of  the  old  castle  at  the  point, 
the  rugged  hills  rising  behind  the  white  houses,  and  out  there 
in  the  \Vest  the  noble  panorama  of  mountain  and  island 
and  sea. 

"lam  afraid,  Mrs.  Ingram,"  Lavender  said, ''you  will 
have  cause  to  know  Oban  before  we  leave  it.  There  is  not 
a  breath  of  wind  to  take  us  out  of  the  bay." 

"I  am  content,''  she  said,  "with  a  gracious  calm." 

"But  we  must  get  you  up  to  Borva,  somehow.  There  it 
would  not  matter  how  long  you  were  becalmed,  for  there  is 
plenty  to  see  about  the  island.  But  this  is  a  trifle  common- 
place, you  know." 

"  I  don't  think  so  at  all.  I  am  delighted  with  the  place,'' 
she  said.     "And  so  are  you,  Edward." 

Ingram  laughed.  He  knew  she  was  daring  him  to  contra- 
dict her.  He  proposed  he  should  go  ashore  and  buy  a  few 
lines  with  which  they  might  fish  for  young  saithe  or 
lythe  over  the  side  of  the  yacht,  but  this  project  was  stopped 
by  the  appearance  of  the  King  of  Borva,  who  bore  trium- 
phant proof  of  the  success  of  his  mission  in  a  brace  of 
grouse  held  up  in  each  hand  as  a  small  boat  brought  him 
out  to  the  yacht. 

"  And  I  was  seeing  Mr.  Hutcheson,"  Mackenzie  said  to 
Lavender,as  he  stepped  on  board,  "and  he  is  a  ferry  good- 
natured  man  whatever,  and  he  says  if  there  is  no  wind  at 
all  he  will  let  one  of  his  steamers  take  the  yacht  up  to 
Loch  Sunart,  and  if  there  is  a  breeze  at  all  we  will  get  it 
there." 

"But  why  should  we  go  in  quest  of  a  breeze?"  Mrs.  In- 
gram said,  petulantly. 

"  Why,  mem,"  said  Mackenzie,  taking  the  matter  se- 
riously, "  you  was  not  thinking  we  could  sail  a  boat  without 
wind  ?  But  I  am  no  sure  that  there  will  not  be  a  breeze 
before  night." 


A   PRINCESS   OF    THULE,  455 

Mackenzie  was  right.  As  the  evening  wore  on  and  the  sun 
drooped  in  the  West,  the  aspect  of  affairs  changed  some- 
what, and  there  was  now  and  again  a  sort  of  shiver  apparent 
on  the  surface  of  the  lake-hke  bay.  When,  indeed,  the  peo- 
ple on  board  came  up  on  deck,  just  before  dinner  they  found 
a  rather  thunderous-looking  sunset  spreading  over  the  sky. 
Into  the  clear  saffron  glory  of  the  Western  sky  some  dark 
and  massive  purple  clouds  had  risen.  The  mountains  of 
Mull  had  grown  light  and  milk-like,  and  yet  they  seemed 
near.  The  glass-like  bay  began  to  move,  and  the  black 
shadow  of  a  ship  that  lay  on  the  gleaming  yellow  plain  began 
to  tremble  as  the  water  cut  lines  of  light  across  the  reflection 
of  the  masts.  You  could  hear  voices  afar  off.  Under  the 
ruins  of  the  castle  and  along  the  curves  of  the  coast  the 
shadows  of  the  water  were  a  pure  green,  and  the  rocks  were 
growing  still  more  sharp  and  distinct  in  the  gathering  dusk. 
There  was  a  cold  smell  of  the  sea  in  the  air.  And  then 
swiftly  the  pale  colors  of  the  West  waxed  luiid  and  fierce, 
the  mountains  became  of  a  glowing  purple,  and  then  all  the 
plain  of  the  sea  was  dashed  with  a  wild  glare  of  crimson, 
while  the  walls  of  DunoUy  grew  black,  and  overhead  the 
first  scouts  of  the  marshaling  forces  of  the  clouds  came  up  in 
flying  shreds  of  gold  and  fire. 

"Oh,  ay,  we  may  hef  a  breeze  the  night,"  Mackenzie  said. 

"I  hope  we  shan't  have  a  storm,"  Mrs.  Ingram  said. 

**  A  storm?  Oh,  no;  no  storm  at  all.  It  will  be  a  ferry 
good  thing  if  the  wind  lasts  till  the  morning." 

Mackenzie  was  not  at  all  sure  that  there  would  be  storm 
enough,  and  went  down  to  dinner  grumbling  over  the  fine- 
ness of  the  weather.  Indeed,  when  they  came  on  deck  again 
later  on  in  the  night,  even  the  slight  breeze  that  he  had  hoped 
for  seemed  impossible.  The  night  was  perfectly  still.  A  few 
stars  had  come  out  overhead,  and  their  light  scarcely  trem- 
bled on  the  smooth  waters  of  the  bay.  A  cold,  fresh  scent 
of  seaweed  was  about,  but  no  wind.  The  orange  lights  in 
Oban  burned  pale  and  clear,  the  red  and  green  lamps  of  the 
steamers  and  yachts  in  the  bay  did  not  move.  And  when 
Mrs.  Ingram  came  up  to  take  Sheila  forward  to  the  bow  of 
the  boat,  to  sit  down  there  to  have  a  confidential  talk  with 
her,  a  clear  and  golden  moon  was  rising  over  the  sharp  black 
ridge  of  Kerrara  into  the  still  and  beautiful  skies,  and  there 
was  not  a  ripple  of  the  water  along  the  sides  of  the  yacht  to 
break  the  wonderful  silence  of  the  night. 


456  A    PRINCESS    OF    THULE. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "you  have  a  beautiful  place  to  live  in." 

"  But  we  do  not  live  here,"  Sheila  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  This  is  to  me  as  far  away  from  home  as  England  can  be  to 
you  when  you  think  of  America.  When  I  came  here  for  the 
first  time  I  thought  I  had  got  into  another  world,  and  that  I 
should  never  be  able  to  get  back  again  to  the  Lewis. 

"And  is  the  island  you  live  in  m«)re  beautiful  than  this 
place?"  she  asked,  looking  around  on  the  calm  sea,  the 
lambent  skies  and  the  far  mountains  beyond,  which  were  gray 
and  ghost-like  in  the  pale  glow  of  the  moon. 

"  If  you  see  our  island  on  such  a  night  as  this,  you  will  say 
it  is  the  most  beautiful  place  in  the  world.  It  is  the  Winter- 
time that  is  bad,  when  we  have  rain  and  mist  for  weeks 
together.  But  after  this  year  I  think  w^e^hall  spend  all  the 
Winters  in  London,  although  my  husband  does  not  like  to 
give  up  the  shooting  and  boating;  and  that  is  very  good 
amusement  for  him  when  he  is  tired  with  his  work." 

"  That  island  life  certainly  seems  to  agree  with  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Ingram,  not  daring  even  to  hint  that  there  was  any 
further  improvement  in  Sheila's  husband  than  that  of  mere 
health:  *'  I  have  never  seen  him  look  so  well  and  strong.  I 
scarcely  recognized  him  on  the  pier,  he  was  so  brown ;  and 
— and — and  I  think  his  sailor  clothes  suit  him  so  well.  They 
are  a  little  rough,  you  know;  indeed,  I  have  been  wondering 
whether  you  made  them  yourself.'' 

Sheila  laughed :  "I  have  seen  you  look  at  them.  No,  I 
did  not  make  them.  But  the  cloth,  that  was  made  on  the 
island,  and  it  is  very  good  cloth  whatever." 

"  You  see  what  a  bad  imitation  of  your  costume  I  am  com- 
pelled to  wear.  Edward  would  have  it,  you  know.  I  think 
he'd  like  me  to  speak  like  you,  if  I  could  manage  it.'' 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  sure  he  would  not  like  that,''  Sheila  said. 
*'for  many  a  time  he  used  to  correct  me;  and  when  he  first 
came  to  the  island  I  was  very  much  ashamed,  and  sometimes 
angry  with  him." 

"  But  I  suppose  you  got  accustomed  to  his  putting  every- 
body right  ?"  said  Mr.  Ingram's  wife,  with  a  smile. 

"  He  was  always  a  very  good  friend  to  me,"  Sheila  said, 
simply. 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  he  is  now,"  said  her  conjpanion,  taking 
the  girl's  hand  and  forcing  herself  to  say  something  of  that 
which  lay  at  her  heart,  and  which  had  been  struggling  for 
utterance  during  all  this  beating  about  the  bush.  "  I  am  sure 


A  PRINCESS    OF   THULE,  457 

you  could  not  have  a  better  friend  than  he  is;  and  if  you 
only  knew  how  pleased  we  both  are  to  find  you  so  well  and 
so  happy — " 

Sheila  saw  the  great  embarrassment  in  her  companion's 
face,  and  she  knew  the  good  feeling  that  had  driven  her  to 
this  stammering  confession.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  you," 
she  said,  gently.  "I  am  very  happy;  yes,  I  do  not  think  I 
have  anything  more  to  wish  for  in  the  world." 

There  was  no  embarassment  in  her  manner  as  she  made 
this  simple  avowal,  her  face  was  clear  and  calm  in  the  moon- 
light, and  her  eyes  were  looking  somewhat  distantly  at  the  sea 
and  the  island  near.  Her  husband  came  forward  with  alight 
shawl  and  put  it  around  her  shoulders.  She  took  his  hand 
and  for  a  moment  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  Then  he  went  back 
to  where  Ingram  and  old  Mackenzie  were  smoking,  and  the 
two  women  were  left  to  their  confidences.  Mrs.  Kavanagh 
had  gone  below. 

What  was  this  great  noise  next  morning  of  the  rattling  of 
chains  and  the  flapping  of  canvas  overhead?  There  was  a 
slight  motion  in  the  boat  and  a  plashing  of  water  around  her 
sides.     Was  the  Princess  Sheila  getting  under  weigh  ? 

The  various  noises  ceased,  so  also  did  the  rolling  of  the 
vessel,  and  apparently  all  was  silent  and  motionless  again. 
But  when  the  ladies  had  dressed  and  got  up  on  deck,  behold 
they  were  in  a  new  world  !  All  around  them  were  the  blue 
waters  of  Loch  Linnhe,  lit  up  by  the  brilliant  sunshine  of 
the  morning.  A  light  breeze  was  just  filling  the  great  white 
sails,  and  the  yacht,  heeling  over  sHghtly,  was  cutting  her 
placid  way  through  the  lapping  waves.  How  keen  was  the 
fresh  smell  of  the  air  !  Sea-gulls  were  swooping  down  and 
around  the  tall  masts;  over  there  the  green  island  of  Lismore 
lay  bright  in  the  sunshine;  the  lonely  hills  of  Morven  and  the 
mountains  of  Mull  had  a  thousand  shades  of  color  growing 
on  their  massive  shoulders  and  slopes  ;  the  ruins  of  Duart 
Castle,  out  at  the  point,  seemed  too  fair  and  picturesque  to 
be  associated  with  dark  legends  of  blood.  Were  these  faint 
specks  in  the  South  the  far  islands  of  Colonsay  and  Oronsay? 
Lavender  brought  his  glass  to  Mrs.  Ingram,  and,  with  many 
apologies  to  all  the  ladies  for  having  woke  them  up  so 
soon,  bade  her  watch  the  flight  of  two  herons  making  in 
for  the  mouth  of  Loch  Etive. 

They  had  postponed  for  the  present  that  Southward  'trip 


458  A   PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

to  Jura.  The  glass  was  still  rising,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
weather  rendered  it  doubtful  whether  they  might  have  wind 
enough  to  make  such  a  cruise  anything  but  tedious.  They 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  light  breeze  in  the  morning  to 
weigh  anchor  and  stand  across  for  the  Sound  of  Mull;  if  it 
held  out,  they  would  at  least  reach  Tobermony,  and  take 
their  last  look  at  a  town  before  rounding  Ardnamurchan  and 
making  for  the  wild  solitudes  of  Skye. 

"Well,  Cis,"  Ingram  said  to  his  wife,  as  he  busied  himself 
with  a  certain  long  fishing-line,  "  what  do  you  think  of  the 
Western  Highlands?" 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  these  places  before?"  she 
said,  rather  absently,  for  the  mere  height  of  the  mountains 
along  the  Sound  of  Mull — the  soft  green  woods  leading  up 
to  the  great  bare  shoulders  of  purple  and  gray  and  brown 
above — seemed  to  draw  away  one's  eyes  and  thoughts  from 
surrounding  objects. 

"I  have  often.  But  what  is  the  use  of  telling?" 
"  It  is  the  most  wonderful  place  I  have  ever  seen,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  so  beautiful  and  so  desolate  at  the  same  time. 
What  lovely  colors  there  are  everywhere — on  the  sea,  and  on 
the  shores  there,  and  up  the  hills — and  everything  is  so 
bright  and  gleaming!  But  no  one  seems  to  live  here.  I 
suppose  you  couldn't;  the  loneliness  of  the  mountains  and 
the  sea  would  kill  you." 

"My  dear  child,  these  are  town -bred  fancies,"  he  said,  in 
his  usual  calm  and  carelessly  sententious  manner.  "If  you 
lived  there,  you  would  have  plenty  to  do  besides  looking  at 
the  hills  and  the  sea.  You  would  be  glad  of  a  fine  day  to 
let  you  go  out  and  get  some  fish  or  go  up  the  hills  and  get 
some  blackcock  for  your  dinner;  and  you  would  not  get  sad 
by  looking  at  fine  colors,  as  towns-folk  do.  Do  you  think 
Lavender  and  Sheila  spend  their  time  in  mooning  up  in  that 
island  of  theirs?  and  that,  I  can  tell  you,  is  a  trifle  more 
remote  and  wild  than  this  is.  They've  got  their  work  to 
do,  and  when  that  is  done  they  feel  comfortable  and  se- 
cure in  a  well-built  house,  and  fairly  pleased  with  themselves 
that  they  have  earned  some  rest  and  amusement.  I  dare 
say  if  you  built  a  cottage  over  there,  and  did  noth- 
ing but  look  at  the  sea  and  the  hills  and  the  sky  at 
night,  you  would  very  soon  drown  yourself.  I  suppose 
if  a  man  were  to  give  himself  up  for  three  months  to  think- 
ing of  the  first  formation  of  the  world,  and  the  condition  of 


A   PRINCESS    OF  THULE.  459 

affairs  before  that  happened,  and  the  puzzle  about  how  the 
materials  ever  came  to  be  there,  he  would  grow  mad.  But 
few  people  luckily  have  the  chance  of  trying.  They've  got 
their  bread  to  earn:  if  they  haven't,  they're  bent  on  killing 
something  or  other — foxes,  grouse,  deer,  and  what  not — and 
they  don't  bother  about  the  stars,  or  what  lies  just  outside  the 
region  of  the  stars.  When  I  find  myself  getting  miserable 
about  the  size  of  a  mountain,  or  the  question  as  to  how  and 
when  it  came  there,  I  know  that  it  is  time  to  eat  some- 
thing. I  think  breakfast  is  ready,  Cis.  Do  you  think  you 
have  the  nerve  to  cut  this  hook  out  of  my  fingers  ?  and  then 
we  can  go  below." 

She  gave  a  little  scream  and  started  up.  Two  drops  of 
blood  had  fallen  on  Lavender's  white  decks. 

"  No,  I  see  you  can't,"  he  said.  "  Open  this  knife,  and  I 
will  dig  it  out  myself.  Bless  the  girl!  are  you  going  to  faint 
because  I  have  scratched  my  finger?" 

Lavender,  however,  had  to  be  called  in  to  help,  and  while 
the  surgical  operation  was  going  forward  Mrs.  Ingram  said, 
"  You  see  we  have  got  towns-folks'  hands  as  yet.  I  suppose 
they  will  get  to  be  leather  by  and  by  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know  how  Mrs.  Lavender  can  do  those  things  about  a  boat 
with  the  tiny  little  hands  she  has." 

"  Yes,  Sheila  has  small  hands,  hasn't  she  ?"  Lavender  said, 
as  he  bound  up  his  friend's  finger;  "  but  then  she  makes  up 
for  that  by  the  bigness  of  her  heart." 

It  was  a  pretty  and  kindly  speech,  and  it  pleased  Mrs  In- 
gram, though  Sheila  did  not  hear  it.  Then,  when  the  doc- 
toring was  over,  they  all  went  below  for  breakfast,  and  an 
odor  of  fish  and  ham  and  eggs  and  coffee  prevailed  through- 
out the  yacht. 

"I  have  quite  fallen  in  love  with  this  manner  of  life,"  Mrs. 
Ingram  said.  "  But,  tell  me,  is  it  always  as  pleasant  as  this? 
Do  you  always  have  those  blue  seas  around  you,  and  green 
shores  ?     Are  the  sails  always  white  in  the  sunlight  ?" 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"  Well,  I  would  not  say,"  Mackenzie  observed  seriously,  as 
no  one  else  would  take  up  the  question — "  I  would  not  say  it  is 
always  ferry  good  weather  off  this  coast — oh  no,  I  would  not  say 
that — for  if  there  was  no  rain,  what  would  the  cattle  do,  and 
the  streams  ? — they  would  not  hef  a  pool  left  in  them.  Oh, 
yes,  there  is  rain  sometimes,  but  you  cannot  always  be  sailing 
about,  and  when  there  will  be  rain  you  will  hef  your  things 


460  A   PRINCESS   OF   THULE. 

to  attend  to  in-doors.  And  there  is  always  plenty  of  good 
weather  if  you  wass  wanting  to  tek  a  trip  around  the  islands 
or  down  to  Oban — oh,  yes,  there  is  no  fear  of  that;  and  it 
will  be  a  ferry  good  coast  whatever  for  the  harbor,  and  there 
is  always  some  place  you  can  put  into  if  il  wass  coming  on 
rough,  only  you  must  know  the  coast  and  the  lie  of  the  islands 
and  the  rocks  about  the  harbors.  And  you  wouli  learn  it 
ferry  soon.  There  is  Sheila  there;  there  is  no  one  in  the 
Lewis  will  know  more  of  the  channels  in  Loch  Roag  than  she 
does — not  one,  I  can  say  that;  and  when  you  go  farther 
away,  then  you  must  tek  some  one  with  you  who  wass  well 
acquainted  with  the  coast.  If  you  wass  thinking  of  having 
a  yacht,  Mr.  Ingram,  there  is  one  I  hef  heard  of  just  now  in 
Rothesay  that  is  for  sale,  and  she  is  a  ferry  good  boat,  but 
not  so  big  as  this  one." 

"  I  think  we'll  wait  till  my  wife  knows  more  about  it,  Mr. 
Mackenzie,"  Ingram  said.  "  Wait  till  she  gets  round  Ardna- 
murchan,  and  has  crossed  the  Munch,  and  has  got  the  fine 
Atlantic  swell  as  you  run  into  Borvapost." 

*'  Edward,  you  frighten  me,"  his  wife  said:  "  I  was  begin- 
ning to  give  myself  courage." 

"But  it  is  mere  nonsense,"  cried  Mackenzie,  impatiently. 
*'Kott  pless  me!  there  is  no  chance  of  your  being  ill  in  this 
fine  weather;  and  if  you  had  a  boat  of  your  own,  you  would 
ferry  soon  get  accustomed  to  the  weather — oh,  ferry  soon, 
indeed — and  you  would  hef  no  more  fear  of  the  water  than 
Sheila  has." 

"  Sheila  has  far  too  little  fear  of  the  water,"  her  husband 
said. 

"  Indeed,  and  that  is  true,"  said  her  father;  "and  it  is 
not  right  that  a  young  lass  should  go  about  by  herself  in  a 
boat." 

"  But  you  know  very  well,  papa,  I  never  do  that  now." 

"Oh,  you  do  not  do  it  now,"  grumbled  Mackenzie. 
"  No,  you  do  not  do  it  now.  But  some  day  you  will  for- 
get when  there  is  something  to  be  done,  and  you  will  run  a 
great  danger,  Sheila." 

"  But  she  has  promised  never  to  go  out  by  herself,  haven't 
you,  Sheila?"  her  husband  said. 

"  I  did;  I  promised  that  to  you.  And  I  have  never  been 
out  since  by  myself." 

"  Well,  don't  forget,  Sheila,"  said  her  father,  not  very  sure 


A   PRINCESS    OF     THULE.  461 

but  that  some  sudden  occasion  might  tempt  the  girl  to  her 
old  deeds  of  recklessness. 

The  two  American  ladies  had  little  to  fear.  The 
Hebrides  received  them  with  fair  sunshine  and  smooth  seas, 
and  all  the  day  long  their  occupation  was  but  to  watch  the 
wild  birds  flyintr  from  island  to  island,  and  mark  the  gliding 
by  of  the  beautiful  coasts,  and  listen  to  the  light  rushing  of 
the  waves  as  the  fresh  sea-breeze  flew  through  the  rigging. 
And  Sheila  was  proud  to  teach  them  something  of  the  mys- 
tery of  sailing  a  small  craft,  and  would  give  them  the  tiller 
sometimes,  while  htr  eye,  as  clear  and  keen  as  her  father's, 
kept  watch  and  ward  over  the  shapely  vessel  that  was  making 
for  the  Northern  seas.  One  evening  she  said  to  her  friends, 
"  Do  you  see  that  point  that  runs  out  on  this  side  of  the 
small  island?     Round  that  we  enter  Loch  Roag." 

The  last  pale  light  of  the  sun  was  shining  alon.L''  the  houses 
of  Borvapost  as  the  Princess  Sheila  passed.  The  people 
there  had  made  out  the  yacht  long  ere  she  came  close  to 
land,  and  Mackenzie  knew  that  twenty  eager  scouts  would 
fly  to  tell  the  news  to  Scarlett  and  Duncan,  so  that  ample 
preparation  would  be  made  in  the  newly-finished  house  down 
by  the  sea.  The  wind,  however,  had  almost  died  away,  and 
they  were  a  long  time  getting  into  Loch  Roag  in  this  clear 
twilight.  They  who  were  making  their  first  visit  to  Sheila's 
island  sat  contentedly  enough  on  deck,  however,  amazed 
and  bewildered  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene  around  them. 
For  now  the  sun  had  long  sunk,  but  there  was  a  glov/  all  over 
the  heavens,  and  only  in  the  far  East  did  the  yellow  stars 
begin  to  glimmer  over  the  dark  plain  of  the  loch.  Mealasa- 
bhal,  Suainabhal,  Cracabhal  lifted  their  grand  shoulders  and 
peaks  into  this  wondrous  sky,  and  stood  dark  and  clear  there, 
with  the  silence  of  the  sea  around  them. 

As  the  night  came  on  the  yellow  stars  grew  more  intense 
overhead,  but  the  lambent  glow  in  the  North   did    not  pale. 

They  entered  a  small  bay.  Up  there  on  a  plateau  of 
the  rocks  stood  a  long,  low  house,  with  all  its  windows 
gleaming  in  the  dusk.  The  pinnace  was  put  off  from  the 
yacht;  in  the  strange  silence  of  the  night  the  ripples 
plashed  around  her  prow;  her  oars  struck  fire  in  the 
water  as  the  men  rowed  into  the  land.  And  then,  as 
Sheila's  guests  made  their  way  up  to  the  house,  and  when  they 
reached  the  verandah  and  turned  to  look  at  the  sea  and  the 
loch  and  the  far  mountains  opposite,  they   beheld   the  clear 


462  A   PRINCESS   OF  THULE. 

and  golden  sickle  of  the  moon  rising  from  behind  the  black 
outline  of  Suainabhal  into  the  soft  and  violet  sicies.  As  the 
yellow  moon  rose  in  the  South  a  pathway  of  gold  began  to 
tremble  on  Loch  Roag,  and  they  could  see  the  white  curve 
of  sand  around  the  bay.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the 
cold  smell  of  the  sea.  There  was  a  murmur  of  the  far 
Atlantic  all  around  the  silent  coast. 

It  was  the  old  familiar  picture  that  had  charmed  the  imagi- 
nation of  Sheila's  first  and  only  lover,  when  as  yet  she  was  to 
him  as  some  fair  and  wonderful  princess  living  in  a  lonely 
island  and  clothed  around  about  with  the  glamor  of  old  le- 
gends and  stories  of  the  sea.  Was  she  any  longer  this  strange 
sea-princess,  with  dreams  in'her  eyes  and  the  mystery  of  the 
night  and  the  stars  written  in  her  beautiful  face  ?  Or  was 
she  to  him  now,  what  all  the  world  long  ago  perceived  her  to 
be,  a  tender  wife,  a  faithful  companion  and  a  trueand  loyal- 
hearted  woman?  Sheila  walked  quietly  into  the  house; 
there  was  something  there  for  her  friends  to  see,  and,  with  a 
great  pride  and  gentleness  and  gladness,  Scarlett  was  des- 
patched on  a  particular  errand.  The  old  King  of  Borva 
was  still  down  at  the  yacht,  looking  after  the  landing  of  cer- 
tain small  articles  of  luggage.  Duncan  had  come  forward  to 
Ingram  and  said,  "  And  are  you  ferry  well,  sir  ?"  and  Mairi, 
come  down  from  Mackenzie's  house,  had  done  the  same. 
Then  there  was  a  wild  squeal  of  the  pipes  in  the  long  apart- 
ment where  supper  was  laid,  the  unearthly  gathering  cry  of  a 
clan,  until  Sheila's  husband  dashed  into  the  place  and 
threatened  to  throw  John  into  the  sea  if  he  did  not  hold  his 
peace.  John  was  offended,  and  would  probably  have  gone 
up  the  hillside  and,  in  revenge,  played  "  Mfckrimmon  shall 
no  more  return,"  only  that  he  knew  the  irate  old  King  of 
Borva  would,  in  such  a  case,  literally  fulfill  the  threat  that 
had  been  lightly  uttered  by  his  son-in-law.  In  another  room, 
where  two  or  three  women  were  together,  one  of  them  sud- 
denly took  both  of  Sheila's  hands  in  hers  and  said,  with  a 
great  look  of  kindness  in  her  eyes,  "  My  dear,  I  can  believe 
now  what  you  told  me  that  night  at  Oban." 


THE   END. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
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A  princess  of  Thale 


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